


Sacrifice Until We Win Again

by Odium Dei (Odium)



Series: Prince of Sacrifices [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dark and Light Magic, Gen, Magic, Manipulative Dumbledore, Moral Ambiguity, Philosopher's Stone, Revolutionary Voldemort, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odium/pseuds/Odium%20Dei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first book of an AU encompassing the Hogwarts years of Harry Potter and his two twin siblings. The Boy-Who-Lived is Harry's twin brother, Voldemort's revolution has been crushed, and Dumbledore reigns supreme over magical Great Britain. With Harry defending Draco Malfoy and being sorted into Slytherin, his brother declares him a traitor and a feud starts between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry will soon find out that the world he lives in is not so simple as white and black, Light and Dark, good and evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Until We Win Again

Prologue: Until We Win Again

Seven-year-old Harry Potter was walking by a creek behind his twin siblings, Kristina and Dylan, both of whom were older than him by a matter of minutes.

Harry had his mother’s emerald green eyes, and his father’s unruly black hair, as well as his father’s other features, including light skin. Dylan, by contrast, had his father’s hazel eyes and hair, and his facial expressions. Kristina took after her mother very much, having her dark red hair and green eyes, and her facial features.

Harry loved both of his siblings very much – as much as he loved his parents, James and Lily Potter. The five of them lived in Godric’s Hollow, occasionally visited by Sirius and Remus, Dylan and Kristina’s godfathers, respectively. Harry had a godfather too, by the name of Peter Pettigrew, but he visited much less often. Harry only remembered seeing him twice. Most of what Harry remembered of him was that he had mousy brown hair and blue eyes, and wore long sleeves even in summer.

As he was walking, Harry saw Kristina collapse to the ground, her own arms barely preventing her from slamming into the dirt. Harry swiftly turned to Dylan, hoping he would know what to do.

“Dylan, what’s going on?” asked Harry as the air around Kristina grew cold, and twigs and dirt were swirling around her.

“I don’t know, but get Mum and Dad – they’ll know!” Dylan was in front of Kristina, and Harry nodded, going to get their parents, because he knew Dylan would keep Kristina safe. He ran, and once he got to the house, he saw the door open, and ran in. Inside, he saw an old man with a long, white beard and his parents sitting at the dinner table, talking. Breathing heavily, Harry said,

“Mum! Dad! Kristina – Kristina fell and, and now the air around her is cold and there are twigs and dirt flying around her and it’s scary, and –“

“James, Lily, may I take care of this for you?” the old man asked. “I feel as if this accidental magic may be something greater than just ordinary accidental magic, thus I would like to make sure nothing goes awry, if it is alright with you.”

“Of course, Albus,” Harry’s mother said, and Harry’s father nodded. “Harry, can you show Albus to where Kristina fell?” Harry nodded, and Albus got up, and said,

“Lead the way, then, Harry, my boy,” after a piercing blue gaze made Harry’s head hurt. Harry shook his head to clear it and went out of the doorway and back outside, going back to the area by the creek where Kristina was still collapsed on the ground. Dylan was behind a tree, peeking out as twigs and pebbles hit the trees and water around Kristina. It took only a couple of seconds for Albus to raise his wand and chant,

“ _Finite Incantatem_!” Harry watched in awe as the dirt, pebbles, and twigs slowed and fell to the ground, and Kristina got up. Harry smiled as Dylan ran over to her and helped her up, and walked over to help Dylan when Albus put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay here, my boy – I need to talk to you.” Turning to Dylan and Kristina, he said, “Go back to your house, I believe your mother may want to make sure both of you are alright.” Dylan nodded, and Kristina nodded shakily, and both of them went off to the house.

“Sir? What do you want to talk about?” Harry asked Albus, who replied,

“I’m sorry, my boy, but I must do this. It must stay this way, until we win again.” Harry frowned, not comprehending, and he just stood there, then blacked out.


	2. Chapter 1: Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Hogwarts

Two days previous, Harry had gone with his siblings and parents to get books and other things for school. He’d gotten a black owl that he named Alios, after the great wizard of the eighteenth century of the same name. He’d also gotten a wand, his books, and his robes and other garments - all of which were packed in a trunk that he was pushing on a trolley at Platform 9 3/4. His father was talking to Dylan, and his mother to Kristina, leaving him to ponder his thoughts alone.

_I'm finally going to get to attend Hogwarts, and have friends other than Dylan and Kristina! I can't wait! I won't have Mum and Dad watching over my back all the time, now, either!_

Harry was ecstatic about having more freedom - he felt that his parents tried to prevent him from doing many things that he couldn't see the harm in, such as reading the books in their library. This hadn't stopped him from sneaking in and taking a single book with him for reading - _The Sanctuary of the Mind_ , a book on Occlumency, which he understood as the magic dealing with the regulation of the mind. He wasn't sure, though, and planned to read up on it in Gryffindor Tower once he had the time and the privacy.

“Alright, Dylan, all you need to do is run through that wall. Close your eyes if you need to, and don't be afraid - you'll make it just fine,” Harry’s father was saying. “Goodbye!” Harry saw Dylan and his dad hug.

“Goodbye, Dylan!” Harry’s mother said, and Dylan responded,

“Bye Dad, Mum! See you for Christmas!” Dylan pushed his trolley through the wall, and disappeared into it.

“Goodbye, Kristina!” Harry’s mother said. “I expect you to write, do you understand me?” Kristina nodded, and hugged her.

“Goodbye, Kristina!” Harry's father said, and Kristina replied,

“Bye Mum! Bye Dad!” She pushed her trolley through the wall, disappearing like Dylan had.

“Bye Mum, Dad,” Harry said, and did the same thing that his siblings had, as his mother called,

“Bye, Harry! Write us sometime!” It took Harry’s focus off of the impending crash between him and the wall, so he was glad his mother had said it.

Harry ran right through the wall, and saw the Hogwarts Express, in all its glory. Harry thought it too red for his tastes, but supposed he would be seeing the inside more than the outside, so he took his trunk and owl cage out of his trolley, and went inside the train, looking for the compartment that his siblings were in.

He looked inside one, which had no one in it, then another, with only older boys in it. The third he looked in had people his age - a boy with pale blond hair, two bigger boys both with black hair, and a two girls - one with black hair, the other with brown.

“What do _you_ need?” the blond boy asked, then jerked back as if he’d been struck. “Who _are_ you?”

“Draco, what's wrong?” The brown-haired girl asked the blond, who rose and said,

“I'll tell you later, Pansy.” As the boy stalked towards him, Harry said,

“Um, I was just looking for my siblings - they're not in here, so I think I should leave now -” the blond, whom Harry supposed was Draco, came right up to Harry and asked,

“Who are you?”

“Um, I'm Harry Potter,” said Harry. The expression on Draco’s face was unreadable as he continued.

“Really? I did not know that the Potters had three children - I know only of the Boy-Who-Lived, Dylan Potter. Is he your brother?”

“Yes, he's my twin, and I have a twin sister as well.”

“Well then, Harry Potter, I ask that you join us here until we arrive at Hogwarts, if you would care to.”

“Can I go tell my siblings that I'm going to be here?”

“Of course,” Draco said, adding, “In fact, I shall go with you to inform them.”

“Um, thank you? I don't know where they are, so we'll have to go looking for them.”

“That is fine.” Harry went out of the compartment and into the next one, Draco following behind.

“I never asked you - what's your name?” Harry asked Draco.

“I'm Draco Malfoy.” Harry was taken aback, having heard stories of the Malfoy patriarch, Lucius, supporting Lord Voldemort in the war - before Dylan had defeated him, of course. His father told him that Lucius pretended he was under the Imperius Curse after Voldemort fell, and that he got away with it because of his money.

_But surely, the child can't be held responsible for the father's crimes?_

“I see,” said Harry, and they continued looking.

They found the compartment that had Kristina and Dylan in it, along with three others, after searching two more compartments. There was a red-haired boy, a brown-haired girl, and a black-haired boy in the compartment, the three boys talking to each other, and the two girls talking to each other as well. That is, until they noticed Harry and Draco, and all conversation ceased.

“Hey Kristina, hey Dylan -”

“Who’s with you?” Dylan demanded, and Harry motioned at Draco, saying,

“This is Draco Malfoy -”

“A _Malfoy_? What're you doing with a _Malfoy_ , Harry? You know the stories, right?” Dylan half-whispered the last sentence, as if Draco wouldn't hear it if he did so.

“What stories are you referring to, Dylan Potter?” Draco said before Harry could respond. “Are you referring to stories of when my father was under the Imperius Curse? He was acquitted of all charges, I'll have you know - and it was very stressful and painful for him to be locked inside his own mind!”

“Shut your mouth, Malfoy - we all know that your father did all that _willingly_! He wasn't under the Imperius Curse, and the only reason he got acquitted was because of his money!” It wasn't Dylan this time, it was the red-haired boy who spoke. Draco said,

“Are you a Weasley? I don’t suppose I even need to ask. My father said that they’re easy to spot - red hair, too many freckles, and more children than they can provide for.”

“Malfoy, shut up!” said the red-haired boy, jumping to his feet and drawing his wand. Quick as a flash, Draco did too, and Harry jumped between them, saying,

“Stop, both of you! I just wanted to tell Kristina and Dylan that I was going to be with Draco in his compartment, and now I have, so we can leave - right, Draco?”

“I suppose,” said Draco, and turned out the door and left.

“What are you _doing_ with a goddamned _Malfoy_ , Harry? Did you forget what his dad did during the war?” Dylan said once the door shut.

“‘The crimes of the parent are not the crimes of the child,’” quoted Harry.

“‘Like father, like son,’” Dylan countered.

“Harry’s right, Dylan,” Kristina said. “Draco isn't Lucius.”

“He just insulted Ron’s family - I think he's plenty like Lucius to hate!”

“Did he kill anyone?” Kristina asked.

“Not _yet_ , but he's a Malfoy, so he probably will -”

“I'm leaving,” Harry said, casting a glance to the door. “I'll be three compartments down if you need me.” He turned and was about to leave, just as Dylan said,

“Fine, _blood purist_! Choose Malfoy over your _family_!” Harry felt his anger boiling, but then it subsided suddenly. In its place, he had a terrible headache.

“Your yelling is giving me a headache,” he said, and left.

###

After changing into his school robes, Harry went back into the compartment where he'd left Draco, sitting with the wall on one side and Draco on the other. Draco, Greg, Vince, Pansy, and Millicent were having a conversation about the merits of various Quidditch teams, and Harry felt distinctly left out, since he couldn't care less about sports and the pointlessly dangerous things people did for “entertainment”.

“...And after pulling all their normal players, and putting all their reserve players in, they _still_ beat the Chudley Cannons 430 to 40!” Millicent said, laughing. “What a joke of a team!” Everyone laughed at that, except Harry.

“If only the Cannons had a shred of talent on their team...” Draco said, shaking his head. “Sadly for them, they don't - and probably never will.”

The conversation turned to many different topics after that - the nature of which Harry didn't understand much of, other than which professors at Hogwarts were good, and which ones were incompetent. The group of kids Harry was with seemed to believe that a man named Professor Snape was the best teacher, according to either their siblings or parents.

Harry remembered his father telling him about a Severus Snape, whom he assumed was the same professor the kids in his compartment were talking about. Unlike the group of kids’ opinion, his father’s stories were uncomplimentary, but Harry kept his mouth shut on the subject. After all, he'd never met the man, so he supposed he couldn't judge until then.

From their talk of Professor Snape, Harry gathered that he was the head of Slytherin House, and felt his heart sink. Harry knew he’d be in Gryffindor, but he hoped he could maintain his friendships with these people - especially since Dylan would likely be angry at him for at least a week, if previous large arguments were anything to go by. They would make up, but for the time being, Harry and Dylan would avoid each other's company.

Harry looked out the window to see wilderness, a dark forest with barely any sun shining through the canopy. It was unnoticeable if one wasn't looking out the window, with the lights inside as bright as they were. Then, all of a sudden, the forest was gone, and it was replaced by grass, and the sight of a magnificent castle.

“Is that Hogwarts?” Harry asked, and Draco looked out the window, then said,

“Yes it is. Is it not beautiful?”

“Yeah...” Harry trailed off, awestruck by the sight of the castle. “It is...”

Harry eventually stopped staring at the castle and got off the train, placing his trunk in a carriage he was told to put it in. He was guided by Draco to a set of boats with a large man shouting,

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, o’er here!” As he got in the same boat as Greg, Vince, and Draco, the latter told him,

“That’s Rubeus Hagrid - he’s the groundskeeper, and a rubbish one at that. Allegedly, he got expelled in 3rd year, but apparently our most _wise_ Headmaster decided that he should be kept around. It doesn’t help matters that he was suspected of killing another student.” Harry shuddered. Why would a man as great as Albus Dumbledore keep someone around who could be a danger to the students?

_And he_ is _great - Mum and Dad have talked about him a lot, and I feel like I’ve met him - no, I don’t remember that, so it couldn’t have happened. Regardless, he led the war against Voldemort, and was his only match in power, so he must be good. So he must have made sure that Hagrid wouldn't hurt anyone._

“‘Right, then - forward!” The boats began moving towards the castle, and once they were on the other side, Draco, Vince, Greg, and Harry got out of the boat and followed Hagrid into the castle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kristina and the brown-haired girl who'd been with her getting out of a boat, following after two female twins. He stopped looking around, knowing that he might see Dylan and the Weasley if he kept doing so.

Hagrid led the first years into the castle through a large set of doors, until a tall, black haired woman in deep blue robes came out from a hallway.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.

“Thank you, Hagrid - I shall take them from here,” she said. “Now, if you all would follow me?” Hagrid left out the same door they had come in, and Professor McGonagall led them through the the stony halls of Hogwarts, occasionally turning this way or that, until they arrived outside a set of giant double doors, and she stopped and turned to them.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said after the chatter died down, which didn't take long once they realized she was about to speak. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before then you all will be sorted into your houses.” And so Professor McGonagall began explaining the functions of the houses, far more thoroughly than Harry’s parents had ever done.

“I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” With that, McGonagall left the chamber, leaving the first years to resume their chatter - that is, until several of them screamed. Harry turned to look what it was, and saw a slightly transparent, pale white figure come out of the wall, and heard Draco say,

“Those Mudbloods haven't ever seen a ghost before, I suppose, but do they have to be so loud?” Harry felt his anger rise at the word ‘Mudblood’, but kept his mouth shut, not wanting to tick off Draco. He silently counted to ten in French, which was the extent of his French abilities, but it kept him from shouting at Draco. Unfortunately, it didn't keep Dylan and Ron from coming over to where Harry and Draco were, and Harry felt a fight was about to break out the instant Dylan opened his mouth.

“I don't suppose _blood purists_ like you were ever taught any manners, were you, Malfoy?” Dylan said, and Draco turned regally to face him.

“I don't suppose _blood traitors_ like your friend Weasley there were ever taught what the culture of the Wizarding World _really_ is about? If I'm incorrect, please _do_ correct me -”

“My traitor sibling standing next to you is a half-blood, Malfoy; the son of a Muggleborn - and yet you seem to have no problems with _him_!”

“He doesn't betray the pure blood within him, unlike _both_ of you, Potter, Weasley -” Harry watched in slow motion as Ron made a fist, and then as he raised it, Harry ran between Draco and Ron and his brother, taking the blow right on his nose. Harry fell back on the ground, holding his nose, which was only slightly less painful than when he slammed the front door on his finger. Ron looked astonished, Dylan looked positively _furious_ , and he raised his fist just as Harry heard,

“Just _what_ is going on here!” from Professor McGonagall. Harry heard the footsteps coming towards him, and sighed inwardly a sigh of relief. “Fighting on your very first day? And between brothers, no less? I expect to see _all_ of you - the brothers Potter, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Weasley - in my office after the opening feast!” She walked over to Harry, who felt blood dripping out of his nose, and said, “Mr. Potter, I will have to bring you to the infirmary now, and you will be Sorted later. You cannot expect to be Sorted with a bloody nose, now can you?”

“Don't you have any tissues? It's just a bloody nose!” Kristina asked, walking over to McGonagall.

“There is a possibility of broken cartilage, Ms. Potter - it would be better to be safe than sorry. Although I will concede that a handkerchief would be useful in this situation. Mr. Potter, use this to keep the blood from pouring out.” Professor McGonagall handed Harry a white handkerchief, and he used it to wipe his nose and keep the blood from getting on his clothes or the floor. “Now, I will escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary. On the way, I will send another professor to read your names for the Sorting Hat. If there is _any_ more fighting, I will _not_ hesitate to talk with your parents - am I understood?” All four involved with the violence nodded, and Harry got up. “Come, Mr. Potter.” Harry went, following McGonagall down a corridor, until they reached a door.

“Stay here, Mr. Potter, while I fetch Professor Flitwick.” She opened the door and went inside, shutting the door behind her before Harry could get much of a glimpse of what was inside. He did hear boisterous laughter and much chatter, and assumed the Great Hall was the room she had gone into. Professor McGonagall returned, and led Harry through the halls and stairways of Hogwarts, up into a tower, which looked remarkably like the nurse’s office that Harry had seen in primary school, which his parents had forced him and his siblings to attend based on the premise that “no knowledge is ever a waste”. Harry wasn't sure if he believed that, but his parents did, and he had had no say in it.

“Mr. Potter, this is Madam Pomfrey,” said Professor McGonagall, and motioned towards a woman with gray hair and blue eyes, who looked to be sorting through some papers at a desk.

“Professor McGonagall! What is the matter, I'll be down for the feast in just a minute -”

“I'm afraid that Mr. Potter here requires medical attention due to a possible broken nose.” Professor McGonagall looked at the woman, who rose from her desk slowly and looked at Harry and McGonagall. She waved her wand and whispered a few words, then said,

“It could have been much worse than a broken nose, Minerva - this boy could have died had the blow been just a bit harder. The cartilage is broken, indeed, but it could have entered the brain and killed Mr. Potter here. Minerva, what did this?”

“A punch.”

“From whom?”

“One Ronald Weasley, a first-year.”

“A first-year? It would have been an unlucky accident had he got at the right angle to do this.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I can mend broken bones in a heartbeat, but cartilage is somewhat harder. It will take five minutes.”

“I see. The Sorting is almost over, and I must greet my new Gryffindors, Poppy. Would you be willing to take him down to the feast?”

“Of course, Minerva.”

“Thank you very much. Do not forget, Mr. Potter, that you are to report to my office after the feast.”

“Yes, Professor.” McGonagall left, and Madam Pomfrey lay Harry down in a bed, saying,

“This will hurt.”

“What?” was all Harry said before the spell, and the pain, hit him.

“ _Petrificus Totalus_!” Harry felt his body couldn't move, which was probably a good thing, as he wanted to rip his nose off just to make the pain stop.

A few moments later, the pain subsided, and Madam Pomfrey said,

“ _Finite Incantatem,_ ” and Harry could move again.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Potter, but now your nose is all fixed up. I'm sure it hurt like the blazes, but it removed the shards of cartilage and fixed your nose, so I'm sure you're happy that's taken care of. Now, let's get to the feast, shall we?”

Harry was led by Madam Pomfrey to the great hall, where McGonagall hurried him over to the Sorting Hat, amidst a silent crowd. Then the whispers started.

“Do you think he'll be in Gryffindor, like his brother?”

“Do you think he'll be in Ravenclaw, like his sister?” Harry was shocked to hear that Kristina wasn't in Gryffindor, but supposed that she’d studied quite a bit, enough to warrant being in Ravenclaw.

“Do you think he'll be in Slytherin? I heard he was defending Draco _Malfoy_ of all people from his brother!” Harry winced internally at that one, and realized that the people he’d sat with were likely all Slytherins, given that Draco was one. The whispers stopped when he reached the hat, and McGonagall motioned for him to put it on. He did, and he heard a little voice inside his head say,

_Why, hello there, latecomer._

_How did you know I'm late?_

_You don't think I have a sense of time? Of course I do - I've been awake for five extra minutes than normal. I just want to get back to sleep, but that's no concern of yours - oh, I am so sorry for you, my boy._

_What?_

_I can't tell you without you getting a headache, but I will tell you this - study Occlumency, and root out what doesn't belong in your mind._

_Alright?_

_Good. Now, I see plenty of intelligence, which at first glance makes me want to put you in Ravenclaw, with your sister - but the first glance is not the entirety of what is there. You have loyalty, but only to those who deserve it. You have the courage to fight, but would prefer to run. You are intelligent, and will study, but only when there's a motivator, and won't just for the sake of knowledge. My boy, your ambition is what drives you forward - your ambition that you cannot see yet, but it is there, under the surface, waiting for a way to express itself. And so, I will say your house, which is -_

_You can't mean -_

“Slytherin!” shouted the Hat, and there was silence as Harry took it off and walked slowly to the Slytherin table. Then, one pair of hands began to clap - Draco Malfoy’s, as he moved over to make room for Harry. Harry walked over to him and sat next to him as the rest of the Slytherins started clapping as well. He wanted to curl up under a rock and die, but he began to eat as the food appeared.

“Harry, you look surprised that you're in Slytherin,” said Draco. “Of course, both your siblings ended up in other Houses, but I would think you knew that you were different from them. Am I wrong?”

“Yes, you are,” Harry said. “I thought I was going to be in Gryffindor, just like my parents. I still don't know why I'm in Slytherin.”

“Your naïveté is surprising, considering you were sorted into here,” said Draco. “You're so different from your siblings - I could tell once you stood up for me to your brother.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, uncertain.

“Many children would have abandoned me in the face of such open hostility. You not only stood up to it and your brother, you figured out a way _out_ of it.”

“You didn't help,” Harry said, looking down. “You made things worse!”

“Of course I did - your brother is arrogant and needed to be taken down a few notches,” Draco said. “But as I was saying, your brother is very obviously Gryffindor. No doubt about that. Your sister is obviously not. She struck me as Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, though not Slytherin. She was sorted into Ravenclaw, by the way.”

“I gathered that.”

“You could have passed for Ravenclaw, if you had not just sat and listened to our conversation like a Slytherin. A Ravenclaw would have tried to interject into the conversation without knowing the political climate. You did a good job of staying silent, and realizing that you might not have had much to offer the conversation.”

“Thank you?”

“You're welcome.” The rest of the meal passed with little more talking by Harry, with Draco talking to the people he’d been sitting with on the train.

After Dumbledore said a few things about the third-floor corridor and the Forbidden Forest, and they were dismissed, a Prefect came over and told Harry and Draco,

“You're supposed to meet Professor McGonagall in her office now. If you'll follow me?” Harry suddenly remembered what had happened, and felt dread rise up in his stomach.

_I have to face Dylan and Ron - this is going to be bad._

As they got up and followed the Prefect, Harry spotted another Prefect leading Ron and Dylan the same way. He felt the urge to stop, but forced himself to keep going, until they were right next to Dylan and Ron. Draco had on a look of Pureblood superiority, and Dylan and Ron had equally matched hatred in their eyes when they looked towards Draco and Harry.

“Hey, _blood purist_ , you must've wanted to be in _Slytherin_ , the house of backstabbers and prejudice!” Dylan said to Harry, who cringed internally when he heard the words.

“At least we don't get _killed_ because we're too stupid to have a self-preservation instinct!” Draco retorted.

“Your dad was a Death Eater - willingly, whatever the ruling was! He killed and tortured people - are you _proud_ to have a dad like him?”

“He did not! And he has enough money to _support_ his children, unlike someone!”

“Why you -” Ron began, but was cut off.

“All of you, stop! We're almost there - have whatever fights you're having, you can have in her office!” said the Gryffindor Prefect. There was a tense silence, and then they reached a door. “Go on in! Be Professor McGonagall’s problem!” The four went in, Harry being the last, and shutting the door behind him.

There were four chairs, arranged in a semicircle in front of a desk that McGonagall sat at. Draco took the one on the far left, moving it even further left, and Dylan took the one on the far right, moving it further right. Ron took the seat next to Dylan, moving it closer to him, and Harry took the one in between Draco and Ron, moving it closer to Draco.

“Now that you all are assembled, I will ask the obvious question: why did you punch Mr. Potter in the nose, Mr. Weasley?”

“I reckon that it's because Harry got in between me and Malfoy, since Malfoy was calling the Muggleborn students a rude slur!”

“I see. Mr. Malfoy, is this true?”

“It depends on your point of view, I suppose,” said Draco. “‘Rude’ depends on who's hearing it. I doubt that the students I was calling it cared much.”

“Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall, looking at Dylan. “Do you have anything to add?”

“Yes, I do, professor, and it is that I never knew my brother was a blood purist before. Now that I know, I can be sure to treat him accordingly.”

“Mr. Potter, is this true? Are you a blood purist?”

“No, I am not,” Harry said, feeling stress building up in him, but refusing to let it make him bow.

“Liar! Why _else_ would you take the punch for someone who was calling Muggleborns ‘Mudbloods’!” Harry felt something snap inside him, and as a gigantic headache came on, he retorted,

“Strange as it may be, I don't have to support everything someone says to not want them to get punched or killed!” Dylan looked shocked, and Harry felt his head hurt the worst it had ever hurt in his life. He sank to the floor, clutching it with his two hands and on the edge of screaming. He shut his eyes and curled up into a ball, the pain overpowering his senses and rendering the outside world far away. All Harry felt was pain, pain, and more pain as he fell into unconsciousness.

###

Dylan had never heard Harry raise his voice in anger. Not once. The only times Harry raised his voice was to talk to someone across the room, or to shout a message across the field by their home.

Until now.

“What's wrong with him? Why's he yelling? He never yells!” Dylan asked as Harry fell to the floor.

“Maybe it's because you and Weasley are being such bloody _twats_ that he couldn't take it anymore,” said Malfoy. “That's also probably why he collapsed - stress can make people faint, but you idiots wouldn't know that, would you?”

“ _Mr._ Malfoy, that is _quite_ enough!” McGonagall said, rising up from her desk and walking over to Harry. She checked his pulse, and said, “He’s alive, and his pulse is good, but _something_ must have made him faint. _I_ will take him to the hospital wing, and _you_ three will go with your respective Prefects to your common rooms. Oh, yes, and fifteen points from Slytherin for using unsuitable language when talking about other students. Fifty points from Gryffindor for fighting.”

“But Professor McGonagall, that means we’ll be in negative points to start out the year -” Dylan began.

“If that is what it takes to make sure that members of my _own_ house _never_ do something as stupid as what you two did again, it is worth it. Now go!” Dylan and Ron went out of the office, and saw their Prefect waiting.

“You done? Then let's go, shall we?” Dylan nodded, and whispered to Ron,

“McGonagall was unreasonable, right? Taking points from her own house, and making it so that we're in the negatives to start?”

“I reckon so, yeah,” replied Ron. “But hey, at least Slytherin is too.”

“I guess.”

###

Draco went out of the room, finding the Prefect and following them to the Slytherin common room. Once he got there, he found his room, which he shared with the other first-year boys, and unpacked his things.

Draco wondered how Harry was doing, and hoped that the overly strict McGonagall wouldn't hurt Harry any more than he already was. He wondered what could have caused Harry to pass out, and couldn't come up with anything other than extreme stress.

_What might he have been so stressed out about, other than the confrontation between him and his brother? Is that truly what made him faint? I wish I knew just what was going on inside his head, to learn why he fainted. Perhaps he had something that didn't agree with him, or perhaps he didn't eat enough at dinner. Neither seems likely, as Hogwarts would never serve food that would be contaminated, and I saw him eat plenty._

Draco was jolted out of his thoughts by the door opening and Vince coming in.

“Hey, Draco,” he said.

“Greetings, Vince, how are you?”

“Good. I'm just here to tell you that McGonagall wants you in the hospital wing, now. A Prefect’ll take you.”

“I see. Thank you.”

“Yup.” Vince left, and Draco went after him, finding the Prefect and wondering why McGonagall wanted him in the hospital wing.


	3. Chapter 2: The Feud, Part 1

Chapter 2: The Feud, Part 1

Draco went into the hospital wing, and saw Harry lying in a bed, eyes shut, breathing irregularly. McGonagall was next to him, in a chair, and said without looking up,

“Mr. Malfoy, would you care to hazard a guess as to why Mr. Potter fainted?” she said, and Draco replied,

“Perhaps it is because of stress? I could see that he was quite upset with the other Potter just before he did.”

“I would love for that to be true, Mr. Malfoy, but there is a spell on Mr. Potter. One that regulates his anger by making him faint if he gets too angry. It seems to be an old one, as well.”

“What is it?”

“I would assume that you know, Mr. Malfoy, since it is a relatively common spell, and you have the entirety of the Malfoy libraries available to you. It is the _Ira Obstructionum_ spell, the anger block.”

“I don’t recall learning of that particular spell, Professor,” Draco said truthfully. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because for some reason, I cannot remove it. It was cast by an extremely powerful wizard or witch, possibly even a Lord or a Lady. And there is only one option I see for who cast it: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

_The Dark Lord cast it? Why would he use such a simple spell on Harry when he was about to kill him?_

“Professor, why would the - I mean, You-Know-Who, cast such a simple spell when he was trying to kill all the Potters?”

“I do not know, but who else could have done it, and had access to the Potters? No one.” Draco wondered if Dumbledore had access to the Potters, but pushed the thought out of his head. There was simply no way that man would cast a spell on one of the siblings of the Boy-Who-Lived. “Perhaps Mr. Potter, on that night, was crying, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named decided he wanted to have a dramatic silence before he began killing them. I do not know, Mr. Malfoy, but I have firecalled Headmaster Dumbledore. He will be back by tonight from London, to see if he can remedy Mr. Potter’s condition.”

“I see. But you have not answered my question: why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Mr. Malfoy, if he wakes up, and yet still has the effects of this spell on him, he will need someone to make sure he does not get hurt or that his condition is not taken advantage of. As much as I am loathe to admit it, you are the best choice, as you are in his house and have somewhat of a good relationship with him already.”

_I could use this to increase my influence - if I’m a friend of the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, then people will have to pay attention to me and my goals. This is mutually beneficial, correct? If I’m protecting him, and he’s increasing my influence, then it’s a good outcome for us all._

“I will do as you ask, if the spell is not broken, Professor.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Malfoy.”

“May I stay here? I wish to know when he wakes up.”

“Do you know the way to the Slytherin common room?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you may.”

“Thank you.” Draco pulled up a chair and sat in it, looking at Harry, who looked distressed in his sleep. His expression was one of pain, and Draco felt some sympathy for his plight.

_If I had a spell forcing me to faint when I got angry, I would be annoyed, and most likely in the same pain, so I can appreciate the fact that he is in pain._

###

Harry woke and sat up with a start. He had been dreaming of angry ghosts, trying to bring him down into the underworld and eat his soul.

“Are you awake?” someone asked, and Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall, and replied,

“Yes, I think.”

“Good. It is time for you to get to your dormitory, as I don’t believe you’ve been there yet. I will take you there -”

“There is no need, Minerva,” a voice said from the entryway, and Harry looked to see a man with dark black hair and dark eyes there. “I will take the boy.”

“Why, thank you, Severus,” McGonagall said. Turning to Harry, she told him, “I suppose Professor Snape will take you, as he is now your head of house.”

“I see,” Harry said, getting up and slipping the shoes on that were next to the bed. “Well then, Professor Snape, shall we get going?”

“Very well.” Snape turned and went out of the room, Harry following behind, wondering if Snape held a grudge from his school days on his father. After they’d descended a few flights of stairs, Harry asked,

“Sir, do you think Draco Malfoy should be shunned for the crimes of his father?” Snape stopped, turned, and asked,

“Mr. Potter, what prompted this?”

“Well, I, um, was having a heated discussion with my brother on the train, and I thought that he shouldn’t, but Dylan said that he thought he should. So who’s right?”

“Mr. Potter, you will come to understand that sometimes no one is right, and other times no one is wrong, and still other times no one is either. That is the nature of this world; nothing is simple, in black and white - no matter how much people wish to portray it as that. However, in this case, I would say that you are more correct than your brother, if only because Mr. Malfoy has not committed any of the crimes that his father did.”

“Sir? If I’m right, doesn’t that mean that he has to be wrong?”

“Potter, if you had just _listened_ to what I said, you would know that that is not necessarily the case. However, you seem to share the trait with your father and brother, at least, that listening is for others, and is beneath you. I encourage you to root out that trait within yourself.” Snape turned and began walking again, and Harry didn’t try to speak with him again.

They reached the common room, and Snape said to the portrait,

“Pureblood Valor,” and walked through it as it opened, Harry following suit. Snape pointed down a short hall, and said, “I believe your room is that way - the same as Mr. Malfoy’s. Mr. Potter, before you come to talk to me again, make certain that you do not think listening beneath you, as I do not want to waste my times on fools who do not listen. Listening is how one acquires information about the world around you, and thus how wars and won and lost.” Harry nodded and went the way Snape was pointing.

Harry opened the door, and saw that Draco was on his bed, reading a book. Vince and Greg were also on their beds, along with another boy that he didn’t know.

“Harry, are you alright?” Draco asked, without looking up. “I thought Madam Pomfrey would keep you in the hospital wing for sure.”

“I feel fine, just a bit sleepy,” Harry replied. “I think I’ll get ready for bed and then go to sleep.”

“I see. Classes _do_ start tomorrow, and you’ve had a pretty exciting night,” Draco said. “I hope you feel good in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, and got ready for bed.

###

After breakfast, Harry followed Draco to their first class - Herbology. It was somewhat unpleasantly warm and humid in the greenhouse, and Professor Sprout didn’t make things any more pleasant, as she told them to grab a pot of dirt and choose a plant to put in it. This involved seeing the many varieties of plants, some of which were sentient and a few of which could bite, as well as getting one’s hands dirty in the soil. Harry disliked working in the dirt, as he had been the one to weed the garden at his house far too many times, and disliked having the sun beat down on him while he did so. If possible, the greenhouse was even more hot - which made it all the worse.

“Harry, are you doing alright? You look a little pale,” Draco said.

_Not as pale as you,_ Harry thought, but kept his mouth shut on that subject. Instead, he said,

“I’m fine, I just don’t like the heat.”

“I concur, but there’s little we can do about it. The plants need a warm place to grow - which I’m sure you know.”

“Yes, I do,” Harry said, stuffing some more dirt around his plant, which was asphodel. “I just don’t like it.” He and Draco continued in silence as they finished their plants, and Professor Sprout said it was time to move to the next class just as the bell rang. Draco and Harry washed up, and went on to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

###

“A-a-a-and as you c-c-can see, _expelliarmus_ is a very effective spell for disarming one's opponent,” Professor Quirrell was saying, and Kristina wondered why he was stating the obvious. “H-h-h-however, it has v-v-very little actual force, so o-o-one cannot u-u-use it to e-e-effectively knock back objects.”

“That's interesting, at least,” Kristina whispered to Hermione. “He's been stating what's been in the textbook this far.”

“I know. It's why I haven't been taking very many notes,” Hermione replied back in the same fashion. Kristina looked at Hermione's parchment, and saw that she had taken several pages of notes.

“ _That's_ what you call ‘not very many’?”

“I mean, you’ve barely taken any today -”

“Shh! I'm listening to Quirrell!” a girl next to them said, and both whispered an apology and kept taking notes as he lectured on.

###

“Today, we will learn how to levitate an object using _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” Professor Flitwick was saying, as Dylan and Ron scrambled for parchment. “The pronunciation is _Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa_ , and you all must swish and flick your wands. So with that, you may all begin!” He waved his wand, and feathers appeared in front of everyone. Dylan and Ron looked at each other, and Ron said,

“Guess we don't need that parchment, huh, mate?”

“I guess we don't, no,” Dylan said. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” Dylan waved his wand, but ended up not getting his feathers to fly. He tried again, with no better luck, and then a third time, with still no success. He looked over to Ron and asked,

“How are you doing with this?”

“No better than you, mate,” he replied. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

“You're saying it wrong,” a light voice from behind them said, and both turned to see Parvati Patil. “Weren't you listening? You need to make the ‘gar’ nice and long, and the ‘o’ in Leviosa long too.”

“Can _you_ do it?” Ron asked rudely, and Parvati nodded. “Then why don't you _show_ us?”

“Fine.” Parvati rolled up her sleeves, and swished and flicked her wand, saying, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” The feather began to slowly lift up, and Professor Flitwick hurried over, saying,

“Oh my, look, everyone! Miss Patil’s done it!” Parvati immediately turned red and looked down, but Professor Flitwick said, “Fifteen points to Gryffindor, and ten points to the next person to do it!” Everyone began redoubling their efforts to get their feather in the air, and eventually someone else behind them managed, as there were oohs and ahs and pointing to someone behind Ron and Dylan. Dylan turned around, then Ron did, to see Neville Longbottom pointing a shaking wand at a feather in the air.

“Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom! Congratulations!” Flitwick said, and Neville promptly lost control of the feather and it fell down to his desk.

Dylan was exceptionally irritated that he hadn't been one of the first to levitate a feather, and tried harder and harder until the bell rang, and he still hadn't done it. The feathers vanished, and Flitwick said,

“Well, that's that! Congratulations to those who managed to make their feather fly! If not, I'm sure you'll get it next time!”

“I wonder how _Longbottom_ managed to get it before us,” said Ron, and Dylan shrugged, and looked to the door just in time to see Neville Longbottom rushing out, face red and a little bit of wetness in his eyes.

“I think he heard you, mate,” Dylan said.

“It doesn't matter, he doesn't even have any friends -”

“How rude of you to say so!” Parvati said, coming up behind them, and Ron replied,

“Well, it's _true_ ,”

“Regardless of whether it's true, which it _isn't_ , it's not a nice thing to say!” Parvati walked out, and left Dylan and Ron going to the next class a little bit guilty.

###

Harry kept writing down notes about the 22nd and final Goblin Rebellion long after Draco and the rest of his class had stopped. A few had been taking notes at the start, but half of them stopped by the time Professor Binns mentioned the 22nd Goblin Rebellion. Draco looked to be barely listening, and a quarter of the class was very obviously asleep. That didn't stop Harry from listening and taking notes, as he knew that there might be a piece of information that could help him with his first History of Magic assignment, and wanted to be prepared.

“Harry, how are you _still_ writing? This is boring the bloody life out of everyone else!” Draco whispered, and Harry replied, not stopping writing,

“Because I don't want to have to look in the library for information I could have obtained during an otherwise unhelpful time slot,” Harry replied.

“That's all well and good, but how are you still able to listen? His words are like a Draught of Sleeping Death! Each individual one is like another one poured down my throat!”

“I remember reading about that in _Magical Drafts and Potions_. Isn't that the most powerful sleeping draught?”

“Yes,” said Draco.

“Then how are you even alive after listening to what are at least a thousand of his words?”

“I don't know, Harry - I honestly don't!”

“You're just exaggerating. Can you let me take notes in peace?”

“I suppose.”

###

Kristina arrived with Hermione in the great hall just in time to see her younger brother fall down next to the Gryffindor table. Kristina didn't see anyone she knew around the table, but saw a foot retreating back under the table, and ran over. She asked the person who had pulled his foot back under the table,

“Did you just trip my brother?”

“And if I did?” said the boy. “He's a blood purist, and deserves to be tripped!” Kristina felt a rage well up in her, and was about to begin yelling at the boy when Hermione came over with Professor McGonagall in tow. Hermione put a hand on Kristina’s shoulder, and McGonagall asked,

“Did you trip Mr. Potter, Mr. Finnigan?” as Harry stood up and dusted off his hands, walking over to the Slytherin table.

“No! He just fell! Why are you accusing me of something I didn't do?”

“He's _lying_ ,” Kristina said. “When I asked him, he said, ‘and if I did?’ He obviously tripped Harry!”

“What motive did he have?” McGonagall asked.

“He said Harry was a blood purist, which _isn't_ true, and everyone's just being _mean_ to him because he made _friends_ with a Slytherin, and I _hate_ it!” Kristina was in tears by the end, and wiped her face, going over to the Ravenclaw table and sitting down. Hermione came over next to her and said,

“Professor McGonagall’s sorting it all out right now, you don't need to cry -”

“Yes I _do_ , because Harry's not crying for _himself_!” Kristina said, still crying. Hermione just sat and began eating, while Kristina kept crying.

###

Dylan was laughing with Ron as they were heading up to Gryffindor Tower, and suddenly tripped over something, and fell. He heard Ron yell,

“Hey you!” but didn't care, as he had scraped up his arms on the stones of the castle.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Dylan cursed, and Ron asked,

“Are you alright, mate?”

“No, just take me to Madam Pomfrey - I scraped up my arms and there's _no_ way I'm going to bed like this.”

“Fair enough.”

###

Harry was walking to Herbology with Draco when Draco suddenly cried out, lifting his hands up and dropping his wand. Harry turned to see what the matter was, and then saw that Draco’s hands were swelling up.

“Harry, bloody hell, it hurts!” Draco yelled incoherently.

“I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey, don't worry,” Harry said, picking up Draco’s wand and pocketing it. They ran up the stairs, dodging past others, with Draco either complaining or gritting his teeth the whole way. Harry couldn't decide which was more annoying, so just let it happen.

When they reached the Hospital Wing, Draco presented his hands to Madam Pomfrey, and she waved her wand, saying,

“ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” and pointing to the door.

“What did this?” Draco asked, and she replied,

“The Invisible Bees hex. Now, I have far too many patients right now, so I must ask you to leave.”

The pair of Draco and Harry were no more than twenty steps away from the Hospital Wing before they realized that they were going to be late to Herbology. Draco cursed,

“Bloody _hell_.”

###

Kristina came down the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower, and saw a group of Slytherins in a circle around a young Gryffindor boy, jeering and calling,

“ _Mudblood_ , why don't you go back to your _Muggle parents_!”

“Look at the little _Mudblood_ , it thinks it should be taught _magic_! How cute... And utterly revolting!” All the Slytherins laughed, and then Kristina came out and said,

“Stop! Why are you doing this?”

“Who’re you?” one of the Slytherins asked.

“I'm Kristina Potter,” Kristina said, and one asked,

“Harry Potter’s sister?”

“Yes, I am,” she said, and they all looked at each other, then began to leave, with a little bit of whispering. Kristina walked over to the boy, and asked,

“Are you alright?”

“Just leave me alone!” he yelled, and ran down the halls, leaving Kristina very confused as to what had just happened.

###

Harry had found himself dreading Friday morning, ever since he was tripped on Monday. That was because the first year Slytherins had double Potions with the Gryffindors, and Harry feared that a fight could break out between Ron and Dylan, and Draco. Or even, he supposed, an entire fight between Slytherins and Gryffindors, given the fact that Slytherins had been bullying Gryffindors and vice versa the past few days.

Harry found he could only blame himself for it, as he knew the reason for the feud, for lack of a better word, was that he had stood up for Draco and had made Ron and Dylan mad, which had translated to making the whole of the first year Gryffindors mad at all of the first year Slytherins.

As he ate his breakfast, Harry wondered if he would live past the morning.

“What has you so nervous, Harry?” asked a boy named Blaise Zabini.

“Nothing much,” he said. “Just a little bit of anxiety over my first Potions class.”

_Not_ technically _a lie,_ thought Harry. _But certainly not the whole truth._

“You'll do fine,” Blaise said. “You’ve read up on it in the textbooks, right? There won't be anything that isn't in there that you'll need to know.”

“That helps a bit,” Harry said, and continued eating. After he and Draco were done, they both got their things and went down to the dungeons, where the Potions classroom was. Harry took a deep breath, and opened the door.

As he entered, Harry noticed that cauldrons were set up, and that there were desks next to said cauldrons. He also noticed Snape at his desk, writing something. He and Draco selected a pair of desks next to each other, and watched the rest of the students trickle in as Snape kept writing whatever he was writing.

The problems started once Harry saw Dylan and Ron come in, and both glared at him, sitting on the opposite side of the room with the few other Gryffindors that were there. Dylan was pulling out his wand in what Harry assumed was supposed to be a discrete fashion, and pointed it at Harry just as Snape said,

“Potter, just _what_ do you think you're doing with that wand? This is not Charms.” Dylan turned red and put the wand away, but the problems didn't stop there. As a Gryffindor boy came in, he saw Draco and Harry, and yelled,

“ _You're_ the ones who made them hurt me!” The whole class fell into stunned silence, and while there had been little talking previously, Harry was now afraid to breathe. Snape rose very slowly from his desk, looking directly at the newcomer, and said,

“What is your name?”

“Um, I'm, uh, Don Alabaster.”

“Well then, Mr. Alabaster, why are you disrupting my class? Granted, it has not started yet, but it will soon, and your baseless accusations are not helping my class stay calm. Five points from Gryffindor for disrupting a class.”

“But, but, _they're_ the ones who started all of this!” Don Alabaster said, pointing at Harry and Draco. “They're the ones who insulted all the Muggleborn students at the start of the year, and the reason I got called a Mudblood by slimy Slytherins!”

“Now, hold on here,” Blaise Zabini said. “You think that they're the reason that you got bullied? No, the reason you got bullied is because they,” he pointed a finger at Dylan and Ron. “Tried to attack Harry and Draco! I don't see how words are worse than the violent actions that they responded with.”

“It's still their fault!” Don Alabaster said, and Snape said coldly,

“Ten points from Gryffindor for refusing to answer a professor and ignoring rational arguments. Open your mouth again to attack anyone and I will give you detention.”

“I... I see,” Don Alabaster said, tears in his voice, and walked over to where Dylan and Ron were sitting, and sat down. Ron and Dylan were talking in hushed voices, and then Dylan stood up.

“He's right, Harry and Malfoy _are_ the ones at fault for starting this! He called the Muggleborns ‘Mudbloods’. How can the teachers stand by and do nothing when -”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for failing to place blame where blame is due,” said Snape. “Now, if you'll kindly shut your mouth and sit down, class is about to start.” Dylan did so, looking extremely angry, and Professor Snape began to circle the room, all the while talking.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. The class, after seeing him deduct a total of twenty-five points from Gryffindor, was dead silent. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death...” There was a short pause, and then he finished, “If you are not as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

There was more silence, and then Snape suddenly rounded on Dylan, and said,

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Harry saw Dylan’s nervous jump, his eyes twitching towards Ron, and Ron very slight shrug.

“I don't know. Sir,” said Dylan. Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything.” Draco and a few other Slytherins snickered behind their hands, and then Snape came over to Harry, and asked,

“Potter! What is the answer to my previous question?”

“I believe that the asphodel, being a calming plant, would react with the wormwood to make a potent sleeping potion... I think.”

“Is that your final answer?” Snape asked, expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“You are correct, Potter. Asphodel and wormwood make the most potent sleeping potion that is available to purchase, known as the Draught of Living Death. Perhaps you could impart some of your knowledge to your brother over there before next class.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don't believe he'd accept being in my presence for that or any length of time.”

“Perhaps he would not. Weasley!” Snape said, walking over to Ron. “Where would you look for a bezoar if I told you to find one?”

“I wouldn't, because it's you who’s asking me, sir,” Ron said. There was a sudden silence, as Snape stared Ron down, who stared back without flinching.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, and detentions with me at 8 o'clock all of next week.” Ron looked about to yell, but Dylan whispered something as Snape was walking away, and Ron appeared to calm down. The class went on from there, with no one else challenging Snape from the Gryffindor side, and all the Slytherins taking notes on what Snape was teaching.

Then, as the class was working on a simple boil-cure potion, Neville Longbottom spilled his potion on himself, and, ironically, boils began to sprout on him. Snape rounded on him for making a mistake, asking him if he had any capacity to follow instructions. He told Seamus Finnigan to take Neville to the Hospital Wing, and Seamus looked relieved to be out of the classroom.

“You all are to turn into me a foot-long essay on the properties of boil-cure potions next Friday,” Snape said at the end of class. “Do _not_ expect me to give you credit for poor work. You are dismissed.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the classroom, but then Snape called him back in. “Potter, come back here. I must speak with you.” Harry turned back and went towards Snape.

“What is it, sir?” he asked as the last student left the room. Snape waved his wand at the door and said,

“ _Muffliato_. Potter, I have been told that you defended Mr. Malfoy from Ronald Weasley’s fist. Good job, though I know it would have been painful. However, I have also been told that there is, for lack of a better term, a feud going on between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It must end, sooner rather than later. I understand Mr. Malfoy has been attacked by the invisible bees hex, which also would have been painful. These sorts of things cannot happen, and serve only to lessen Slytherin’s image in the eyes of the other students. We are already regarded by some as the ‘evil house’. This simply reinforces that belief, and therefore must end. Speak with Mr. Malfoy regarding this, and ascertain whether he can influence the others to apologize, or at least halt their aggression. That is all.”

“Alright, sir.” Harry left, and went up to lunch.

###

That weekend, Harry was in his room, with the curtains drawn, reading his book, _The Sanctuary of the Mind_. He had already practiced the meditation that the book recommended, and was now trying to move onto the more advanced techniques for protecting his mind from intrusion, and calming it.

_If I faint from getting angry, then I need to not get angry, and Occlumency is probably the best way to do that,_ Harry thought. _But still, I need to figure out_ why _I faint when I get angry. That's important too._

As he read on, the door opened and Draco asked,

“Harry? Are you in here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need to speak with you,” said Draco.

“You are right now,” replied Harry.

“Somewhere more... Private, perhaps?” Harry understood immediately. He had talked to Draco about Snape’s conversation yesterday, and knew that Draco would have some information by sometime. Apparently, that sometime was now.

“Sure, where are we going?”

“I have a place,” said Draco. “Just get dressed and follow me.”

“I _am_ dressed,” Harry said as he got out of his bed. He slipped his shoes on. “Lead the way.” Draco led him out to the common room and then past the corridor that was before the Slytherins’ rooms. They went up some stairs and then into a classroom Harry didn't recognize. Shutting the door, Draco said,

“So, about what you talked to me about yesterday - I can convince a few of the first-year boys, maybe all of them, and a couple of the girls to stop fighting - but no one beyond that. And they won't take any of the assaults on them laying down, if they get attacked. They’d just start fighting again.”

“So, we don't have a way out of the feud yet?”

“Not yet, unless you have some brilliant idea,” Draco replied.

“I have one, but I'd like to run it by Professor Snape first, before I tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because you might not like it, and if he backs me up, there's more of a chance you'll listen.”

“ _Fine_.”

###

“So, that's my plan,” Harry finished, Snape not looking up from his papers that he was grading. “What do you think?”

“If you can convince Mr. Malfoy to do this, then I think it is a fine idea,” said Snape. “If nothing else, it will give Slytherin the moral high ground, and that has the possibility of garnering the other houses’ support. I am sure Professor McGonagall is already speaking with her house about this matter, but I will converse with her and see what headway has been made on her end.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, and he turned to leave, but Snape said,

“Wait, Potter. There is another matter of which I must speak to you of.”

“What is it, sir?” Harry asked, turning around to face Snape again.

“I have been told that your parents are petitioning Headmaster Dumbledore to have you re-sorted.” Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and asked, disbelieving,

“What?”

“Your parents wish for you to be re-sorted, Potter,” Snape said, in a tone betraying none of his emotions surrounding the matter.

“Why?”

“That, at least, I may be able to hazard a guess at. The feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin is symbolized as between you and your brother, with the rest of your respective houses rallying against perceived injustices. They may believe that by having you be sorted into Gryffindor, the feud would end.”

“But that would just make things worse for me!”

“Indeed it would.” Snape's face showed no emotion.

_Why would they want that, if it'll just make things worse for me?_ Harry wondered. _Don't they care that I'd be bullied incessantly?_

“Sir, what is the password to Professor Dumbledore’s office?” Harry asked.

“I am not allowed to tell you,” Snape said. “And I have one more thing to speak with you of.”

“What is it?”

“You have proven yourself to be an above-average Potions student, superior to most of your classmates and certainly superior to your _brother_.” Snape's emphasis on ‘brother’ was one of distaste. “I have determined that you might benefit from additional lessons in Potions, if only to satisfy some of your interest, which I am able to tell is there. Would you be amenable to taking these extra lessons?”

“Why, sir?” Harry asked after a short pause. “Didn’t - I mean, don't you hate my father? Why would you go out of your way to help me?”

“Because you are the best Potions student I have had in at least a half-decade, and you are in my house. I value those traits over any lineage - I know how often lineage is useless in determining character. Though it does sometimes apply, as with your... _Brother_.”

“How is my sister doing in your class, sir?” Harry asked.

_I don't want to have to say yes or no right now - I don't know how well I'll be able to keep up with my schoolwork._

“Ah, a very amateur Slytherin tactic, Potter. I would appreciate it if you do not attempt to use such obvious tricks on me. I will ask the question again: would you be amenable to taking extra Potions lessons from me?”

“Do I have to decide right now, Professor? I'm not sure if I'm able to keep up with all my work yet,” said Harry.

“You may also ask me for help on any number of subjects, if you choose to take these lessons. I am skilled in all the subjects that will be taught to you for your first two years - and most of them beyond then, though I know nothing of the useless subject that is Divination.”

“Would you be willing to keep these lessons secret from my sister and brother?” Harry asked.

“That would involve keeping them secret from the entire student body, and most likely most of the professors as well. If one person knows aside from you and me, then there is the distinct possibility it will filter to the ears of your siblings. I will not announce it, but it will be known to the professors. If asked, you may simply say you are taking remedial classes with me for various subjects - whichever ones are your weakest. They may question it, but only in their minds, as they can find no evidence that you are lying.”

“What if they know Legilimency?” Harry asked jokingly, and Snape jerked his head up to look at him.

“And _how_ do you know what that is, Potter?” Snape asked, recovering his composure instantaneously.

“I have a book on Occlumency, and it mentioned that one can read another one’s mind with Legilimency,” said Harry truthfully, not knowing if he was supposed to lie.

“Minds are not to be _read_ , Potter, but that is beside the point. How did you find this book?”

“It was in my parents’ library. What is wrong with it, sir?”

“Occlumency is an art in which many things can go wrong if one delves too deep without knowing enough precautions before it - and Legilimency is even more dangerous. People have gone insane, permanently damaged themselves or others around them, or even died from studying Occlumency improperly.”

“I'm not _doing_ anything - I'm just meditating and calming myself using the techniques in the book. It helps a lot with my anger, actually.”

“Potter, you are one of the _last_ people I would concern myself with over anger.”

“I fainted because I got too angry, according to Professor McGonagall,” said Harry. “I have the anger block cast on me by Voldemort, apparently. I'm not sure why he would, but he did.”

“How is she certain it was the Dark Lord?” Snape asked, looking directly into Harry's eyes, and he felt an intrusion into his mind.

“What are you doing? Get out!” Harry yelled, and turned away to look at the ground.

“I am sorry, Potter, but I must know the truth.”

“Then trust me to tell you it, instead of trying to rip it out of my mind!”

“Very well. How is she certain the spell was cast by the Dark Lord?”

“Because it was an extremely powerful wizard that cast it, because she couldn't remove it,” Harry mumbled.

“Repeat that, _clearly_ ,” said Snape. Harry did, and was asked,

“Have there been any other powerful wizards or witches near you during your childhood?”

“No, but she said that it was really old - compared to me, I mean, like it had been there for a while.”

“I see. Now, if you wish to continue to study Occlumency, you will study with me. You will tell no one that you are taking Occlumency lessons, do you understand?”

“And if I refuse?” Harry asked, and Snape laughed.

“If you refuse, I take away your book in the name of protecting a child. If you lie to me and continue to study it without my instruction, I will take your book, in the name of protecting a child. If I am asked why I did not tell anyone I was instructing you in Occlumency, I will say that it was necessary to protect you, a child, from intrusions from potential people in the school who wished to examine your mind.”

“I - ok. I'll take your lessons, and the Occlumency ones too. Can we be sure no one can hear us, and no one's listening in right now?”

“My office is the most heavily warded of all the professors’ offices, save perhaps Headmaster Dumbledore’s. No one can enter do I not wish them to, nor can anyone listen to any conversations happening within my office. Tell Mr. Malfoy that I support your plan, if he is unconvinced.”

“Thank you. Why did you cast that spell at the door in your classroom, then? Was it a locking spell?”

“No, it was a spell that I needed to thwart eavesdroppers, as it blocks coherent speech from passing through. My classroom does not have the same protections as my office, Potter.”

“I see. Oh, and one more thing, professor. How _is_ my sister doing in your class?” Snape sighed, and replied,

“As much as I hate to admit it, she and her friend, Granger, have a mastery over the theoretical knowledge for their grade level that few do at their age. You are one of those rare few who has mastered the theory and practice for your grade level. Now, I will take you to the Headmaster’s office tomorrow to discuss your re-sorting. Are we agreed?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

“Good. Now go, I am sure you have work to do.”

“Alright.” Harry left Snape's office, and went to go find Draco.

###

After talking with Draco the previous day about his plan, Harry was sure that executing it would be the most difficult part of it, given that the preparation had gone by relatively smoothly. Of course, Draco being Draco, he had complained about it, but Harry knew it was their best chance to end the feud.

However, Harry was currently walking up the stairs that went near Dumbledore’s office with Snape next to him.

“Remember, you are to let _me_ do most of the talking, speaking only when spoken directly to. Also, keep you head down, so that he cannot use easily Legilimency on you. Do you understand?” Snape asked, and Harry nodded.

“I understand.”

“Good.” They reached the twin gargoyles, which Harry knew guarded Dumbledore’s office, and stopped. “Lemon drops,” Snape said, and the gargoyles moved to reveal a staircase that led up. Snape began going up it, and Harry followed.

“Ah, Severus,” chimed a cheerful voice from inside. “What business do you and young Mr. Potter have today?”

“It is of the matter of Mr. Potter’s re-sorting,” said Snape.

“I see. Well, Mr. Potter? Do you wish to be re-sorted into a new house?”

“No, I don't,” he said. “I want to stay in Slytherin.”

“Severus, if I may... Could you leave the room? I wish to speak privately with Mr. Potter.”

“Very well.” Snape left the room, going back down the stairs.

“Now, Harry, my boy,” said Dumbledore, stroking his long white beard. “Your parents are sick with worry over the feud between your house and your brother’s house, that was helped along by you, I understand.”

_I didn't do anything except take the punch for Draco, and that's what you call helping start the feud?_ Harry thought angrily, but took a deep breath after he realized that he was angry. _Anger isn't productive in this situation._

“They believe, and so do I, that a place in Gryffindor would be more suited to you and your family,” said Dumbledore. “I think that without your current head of house in the room, you will be more able to make an objective decision.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Harry said, thinking quickly. “If it's all the same to you, why can't Dylan come into Slytherin? Wouldn't that do as much to stop the feud as putting me into Gryffindor?”

“Dylan strongly feels that Gryffindor is the place for him, and has many friends there. I was under the impression that you had not made any other close friends other than Mr. Malfoy.”

“Does that necessarily mean, sir, that Slytherin is not the place I am suited for? I would argue that the quantity of one's friends does not dictate one's suitedness for a particular house - and even if it did, who is to say that in Gryffindor, I wouldn't have even fewer close friends?” Harry said.

“Harry, my boy, your arguments are indeed sound. I was hoping that I alone would be able to convince you, but perhaps a letter from your parents will do more to convince you than I ever could.” Dumbledore picked up a few folded pieces of paper from the table and handed them to Harry. “Here is the letter they requested that you read if you refused to go into Gryffindor at first.”

Harry took the letter and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, leave kudos, and subscribe to this! It makes me more motivated to write more!


	4. Interlude 1: Go Into Gryffindor, Honey

Interlude 1: Go Into Gryffindor, Honey

_Dear Harry,_

_We sent this letter to Dumbledore after we received Dylan and Kristina’s letters telling us about the situation at Hogwarts. (On a side note, why haven’t you written us? We’re anxious to hear about your first week and beyond at Hogwarts) We told him that we wanted you re-sorted, because Slytherin is no place for a Potter. We’ve been a Light-Declared family for generations, and never Dark. Slytherin is the place of the Dark, and we don’t want you turning to it, if you’re influenced by the people in there._

_Voldemort turned to the Dark, and look where it got him - vaporized by Dylan, and either dead or incorporeal. The Light is the only way for a Potter to go - the Dark holds nothing but pain and death. Gryffindor holds the values of the Light high, while Slytherin sneaks around, holding the Dark close. You don’t want to be sneaking around in the shadows of the Dark, do you? You want to be seeing the Light of peace and purity, right? Then tell Dumbledore that you want to be in Gryffindor._

_Voldemort tortured and killed so many in the name of the Dark, and you’re now in his house. You don’t want to be, do you? Being in the same house as Voldemort was... it must be horrible. I_ _would never want to be in the same house as that terrible of a person, I know that. Tell Dumbledore that you want to be in Gryffindor, honey, and he’ll make it happen. The sorting hat doesn’t always take everything into account when it sorts you, so it’ll be ok - no one will raise a fuss about it._

_Harry, we love you, and know that you deserve better than Slytherin and the blood purist “friends” you’ll have in there. You deserve real friends, ones that care about you, and stick by you, and keep helping you even when you’re not doing so well. Gryffindor is the place for that, not Slytherin. Slytherin is the house of backstabbers and the ambitious who want to sacrifice their friends to get ahead. You don’t belong there, Harry, and I’m sure you know it. You belong in the Light, not the Darkness. You belong with friends, not with backstabbers. You belong in Gryffindor, not Slytherin._

_So go into Gryffindor, honey. You’ll be better off there, with your brother and his friends, rather than the people trying to trick you into believing that they’re your friends._

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, comment, and/or subscribe! It really helps me out and motivates me to continue writing! I should have the next chapter proper out by the 17th, if other stuff doesn't get in the way.


	5. Chapter 3: The Feud, Part 2

Chapter 3: The Feud, Part 2

Harry looked up from the letter, and looked back. He put the letter back on Dumbledore’s desk, and said quietly,

“Sir, I want to stay in Slytherin. I don’t believe that Gryffindor would be good or even safe for me, at this point. People have called me a blood purist, and if I were to suddenly be transferred into Gryffindor, then I would likely be bullied and hurt. I would prefer to stay in Slytherin, where I know I’ll have a minimum of trouble.”

“My boy, no one in Gryffindor would hurt you were you one of their own -”

“Sir, begging your pardon, that’s false. They _hate_ me for sticking up for Draco, and simply switching houses wouldn’t solve that. I would have to renounce everything and everyone in Slytherin, and even then I might not be accepted. I know that Slytherin is the best place for me, sir, and I would thank you not to lie to me.” Harry didn’t know why he said the last part, but he stood up and walked down the stairs, going out of the office. He saw Snape standing at the base of the stairs, and Harry asked,

“Sir, why are you here?”

“Because I did not intend to leave you and the Headmaster alone forever. I assumed that I would be called back in, but it seems I was wrong, unless you are coming to get me.”

“He and I had a difference of opinion on my re-sorting, and I told him that he lied to me when he said Gryffindor would be a better place for me. I didn’t stick around to find out his response.”

“Well, it seems our business here is done. Let us proceed back to the common room.” Snape began walking, and Harry followed him.

###

The next day, Harry and Draco walked up to the Gryffindor table at breakfast, Harry's dread increasing with every step.

_What if this goes wrong? What if it doesn't work? What if Dylan and Ron laugh in our faces? What if we get hurt?_ Harry wondered these things, and hoped to Merlin that everything would go as planned. He forced himself to breathe deeply, and as they reached it, the Gryffindors turned and watched them like hawks.

“What do _you_ want, blood purist?” Dylan asked, and Harry saw Draco about to respond out of the corner of his eye, and elbowed him.

“We would like to apologize for the part Slytherin has had in the conflict between it and Gryffindor,” said Harry. “We apologize for the transgressions made by Slytherins, and especially those made by first-year Slytherins. We realize that the present situation has been unwanted by both parties, and would like to extend an olive branch to end the conflict.” Harry looked at Draco, who rolled his eyes slightly, and said,

“In particular, we say that no first-year Slytherin will attack a Gryffindor without first being attacked after this statement, given that the first-years are the main ones affected by the feud. We ask that the same courtesy that Slytherin has given Gryffindor is given to Slytherin by Gryffindor as well.”

“We wish to stop this feud,” said Harry, not missing a beat after Draco’s part of the speech. “And are prepared to do whatever it takes to find an equitable and just end to it. We hope that you are prepared to do the same.” Harry hadn't realized, but the whole Great Hall had gone silent, with all the Gryffindors staring at him and Draco. He almost stuttered on his next words, but forced himself to say clearly, “Thank you.” He nodded to the table as a whole, and saw Draco do it, even though they hadn't planned it, and began walking back to their table when someone started clapping.

Harry looked and saw that it was a girl from Gryffindor, who had stood up. Others started to do the same, and he looked around, forcing his expression to stay the same, but feeling an emotion of awe inside. As they reached their table, half of Gryffindor was applauding, as well as three-quarters of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Many Slytherins were clapping as well, though none were standing up. Harry looked up to the staff table, and saw McGonagall, Flitwick, Quirrel, Sprout, and Dumbledore standing and applauding, and looked to where Snape should have been, but he wasn't there.

“You did well, both of you,” said a voice, and Harry whirled around to see Snape standing next to him. “And evidently, most of the student body thinks so as well, as does the Headmaster and much of the faculty. Some would call that ability that you just displayed Gryffindor, but I would call it Slytherin. By cultivating the favor of the students, you have made the most important first step for ending the feud. You have manipulated the public opinion in such a way that is advantageous to you. The execution and planning were very well done, and you managed to sway even some of Gryffindors, who were likely tired of the feud. _Those_ are Slytherin traits and abilities, more so than any other house. You are both true Slytherins.” Snape walked away, going back to the staff table, and Harry smiled and began to eat.

###

Harry walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, after being told by a prefect that he wanted to see him. He wondered why Snape hadn't notified him, and then put it out of mind, knowing that Snape likely had more important things to do than mind him. Harry reached the gargoyles, said,

“Lemon drops,” and went up the stairs.

“Ah, Harry, my boy,” said Dumbledore, beaming as Harry sat down. “I found your piece of oratory yesterday with Mr. Malfoy quite admirable. You managed to take a step stop the feud, and that you apologized for your house’s transgressions shows maturity beyond your years.”

“I hope that Dylan and Ron see it the same way you do, sir,” Harry said. “If they don't, it's likely the feud will continue.”

“I'm sure that they will come around eventually,” said Dumbledore, still smiling. “However, there _is_ the matter of your re-sorting, Harry.” Harry felt his heart skip a beat, and asked,

“I thought that was settled, with me staying in Slytherin. Was it not, sir?”

“Your parents have both expressed concern over your close friendship with Mr. Malfoy, and -”

“Alright,” said Harry, keeping his anger under control by breathing deeply. “A few things I have to say to that. One, who told them I was close friends with Draco? _I_ never wrote them any letters saying as such.”

“I believe those would be from your brother, Harry.”

“Then how do they know it's true? Dylan could be lying to make himself seem more favorable.”

“Harry, do you not trust your brother?”

“Not since the day he almost punched me,” said Harry, letting bitterness into his voice. “Did my parents learn of _that_? If not, I can't see why you _or_ I should give any value to their opinions.”

“Harry -”

“I'm not done, sir. _I_ organized Draco and my speech, _I_ wrote it, and _I_ spoke it. _I've_ done more to help end the feud than Dylan has. If anything, I'd say that _Dylan_ should be moved to _Slytherin,_ not _me_ to _Gryffindor_.”

“Harry, you do not understand the concern your parents have around you being around the child of a Death Eater. Mr. Malfoy, they believe, is a bad influence on you, and could lead you down the path that ultimately leads to Voldemort.”

“You think _I_ might become a Death Eater, professor? When none of my classmates are even confirmed supporters of Voldemort, you think that _their_ influence will lead me to become one?”

“Harry, you do not understand -”

“Then why don't you explain it, better than you have? Why is it so hard to explain why you want me in Gryffindor? Is it, perhaps, because you are simply prejudiced against Slytherin, and don't want the brother of the famed Boy-Who-Lived in it?”

“Harry, that is _not_ the case. Your parents want me to assist you in making the decision of where you truly want to be.”

“If the parents of a child were Death Eaters, would you listen to their desires if the child wanted to turn away from the Dark and to the Light?”

“Harry, I do not believe I would, but -”

“Then, don't listen to their wishes for me! I don't care if they think Gryffindor is better for me - _I_ know it's not. _Slytherin_ is where I was sorted, and where I will stay.” Dumbledore sighed.

“I see your point, Harry. I will convince your parents that I can do nothing to change your house if you do not wish for it.”

“Thank you, professor. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

“No, Harry, there is not. You may be on your way.”

“Goodbye, professor.” Harry got up and walked down the staircase, back into the hallway.

###

The next day, after Herbology and History of Magic, Harry was going down to the Great Hall with Draco when he heard Kristina say from behind him,

“Harry, can I talk to you? Alone?” Harry turned around, and saw Kristina looking at him.

“Sure,” he said. “Draco, can you go down and eat? I'll be there soon.”

“I _suppose_ ,” said Draco. “But don't take too long!” He went off into the Great Hall, and Kristina said,

“Alright. First of all, you did a great job yesterday - I hope that the Gryffindors will come to their senses and stop fighting too. I need your advice about something, though - Professor Flitwick wants to give me private lessons, and I don't know if it would be fair to the other people.”

“Why does he want to give you the lessons?” Harry asked, wondering if he should tell Kristina that he was about to start lessons with Snape.

“He says I'm the best in his class at Charms, and he wants to teach me more advanced material, but Hermione's pretty good too, and he hasn't offered _her_ any private lessons, so I'm not sure if I should. What do you think?”

“I think that you should trust Flitwick, if he says you're the best in his class,” said Harry carefully. “And going off of that, I would take them, because it's possible that you can learn things that you could teach Hermione. And even if you couldn't, _you_ could be better prepared for your OWLs, NEWTs, and even university tests.”

“But isn't that unfair?”

“Not if you're the only person he thinks would benefit from the lessons,” Harry told her. “Think about it, if Snape held private lessons for excelling Potions students, do you think Dylan and Ron would _want_ to come, even if they were invited?”

“I see your point, but, I don't know, it just feels unfair,” Kristina said.

“Then don't do them. Do what makes _you_ feel good, and explain that to Professor Flitwick.”

“Alright, thanks,” she said, and Harry and she walked into the Great Hall.

###

Dylan walked into McGonagall's office, after being requested by her. He was still angry at Harry and Malfoy - cursed blood purists, both of them - and was fairly sure that the meeting was about the feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall, as Dylan walked in. “Sit down, please.” He did, and asked,

“Is this about the feud?”

“Mr. Potter, I did not believe that I needed to speak to you again about it, especially after your brother's speech yesterday. I assumed you would do the right thing, and make every effort to end the feud as well.”

“Why would I _ever_ make concessions to _blood purists_ , Professor? They're pure _evil_ \- judging people based on their blood status is just _wrong_!” Dylan let his anger out into his voice, but McGonagall wasn't fazed.

“Mr. Potter, I agree, but there is not always an opportunity to change others’ beliefs, and certainly violence and intimidation are not media by which that change is accomplished.”

“We're showing them that they can't insult Muggleborns without repercussions! Is that so wrong?”

“Mr. Potter, what you are showing them is that Gryffindors can be just as prejudiced as blood purists.”

“What? We're not prejudiced!”

“You are judging them based on what their parents have taught them, something they have had no control over. You're not teaching them anything else by fighting - in fact, you are reinforcing their beliefs that Muggleborns are inferior, as you are fighting them instead of talking and resolving the situation through peaceful means. In short, this feud is counterproductive for both the Slytherins _and_ you, my Gryffindors.”

“Why do you think _I_ can end the feud? I'm just a first-year!”

“Mr. Potter, you _know_ you are more socially powerful than a regular first-year. You are the _Boy-Who-Lived_ , the savior from Voldemort - the other first-years look up to you in awe. Even some of the upperclassmen will look to you for direction, as you grow older and become more mature. Were you to declare that this feud should end, it would end.”

“What did you call me here to talk about, Professor?” Dylan said with a sigh. “I know we won't get any further on this subject.”

“I wanted to extend an offer to you of private lessons in offensive and defensive magic,” said McGonagall. “You are the Boy-Who-Lived, and you will certainly need more lessons than Hogwarts normally provides to its students if you are to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Can Ron come?” Dylan asked.

“No, Mr. Potter - these lessons would be for you alone. If Mr. Weasley were allowed to come, others would as well, and you would have me start what would essentially be a dueling club. I am neither able nor willing to do so.”

“Alright, Professor - I guess I'll take them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. And one more thing.”

“What?”

“Stop this feud while you still can.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” Dylan got up, walked out of the office, and shut the door behind him.

###

Minerva McGonagall was sitting in her chair, wondering how the future leader of the Light couldn't see that it was in his best interests to end the fighting between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

_Well, he is only eleven,_ she thought resignedly. _But still, I would have hoped he had more empathy in him than this. For him not to see that he needs to be the bigger person in this feud - I must speak to Albus about this. He will certainly be able to find a solution - just as he did for every battle in the war._

Minerva rose from her desk, and walked out the door, going to Albus’ office.

_He will find a solution for this, I'm sure of it,_ she thought as she said the password.

“Lemon drops.” The gargoyles opened up the passage to his office, and Minerva thanked them for letting her through as she went up the stairs.

“Ah, Minerva. What brings you here?” Albus said as she got to the top of the stairs. “Have a seat.” She did, and began,

“Albus, I fear that Dylan Potter may not realize how important ending the feud is.”

“Why?”

“He has told me that he wishes to show the Slytherins that they cannot insult the Muggleborns without repercussions, but shows no empathy towards them, and worse, no reason to end the feud, even after I rationally laid out reasons for doing so.”

“Minerva, he is eleven. He will grow older and more mature, and begin to realize that not all can be perfect in this world. Although, you raise a valid point - the Slytherins now appear to have the moral high ground, and it will decrease the legitimacy of the Boy-Who-Lived if Gryffindor becomes the lone aggressor. I will speak to him about this, do not worry. Thank you for alerting me to this, Minerva.”

“You are welcome, Albus.”

###

Kristina was walking to her first private lesson with Professor Flitwick, after telling Hermione about the lessons. She hadn't been happy, but she'd told Kristina that she would try even harder and get Professor Flitwick to notice that she was as good as her.

Kristina was sure it hurt to know that one's best friend was getting private lessons because they were better at something one prided oneself on, but knew that she could try and teach Hermione what she learned.

_And, I'll try to get Flitwick to include Hermione eventually, too! It'll all be fine, then, right?_ Kristina kept walking to Flitwick’s office, but heard low voices saying,

“Do you think Dylan will ever come around?” She immediately knew they were talking about her brother, and listened intently as she walked slowly by.

“No, he's so set on getting revenge on the Slytherins that he's not seeing sense.”

“Let's be honest, this is basically a sibling squabble - think about it. Potter defended Malfoy and made Dylan angry, then Ron lost it and now the whole of both houses are royally fucked up in this mess. At least Potter tried to end it - Dylan shows no signs of stopping.”

“At this point, I wish Potter were the Boy-Who-Lived, rather than Dylan. He's less of a jerk.”

“Yeah, but he defended Malfoy after he called the Muggleborns a slur.”

“True, but you’d defend your friends from violence, even if they said something dumb, right? That's the same thing.”

Kristina was out of earshot by that point, and mulled over what she'd heard in her head.

_Even the Gryffindors are saying they don't like Dylan now? Not even a month here and already he’s losing influence? That's not good. I knew Ravenclaws thought he was a bit of a jerk, and Slytherins certainly so, but now Gryffindors? I hope this doesn't explode in all of our faces._

Kristina knocked on the door to Professor Flitwick's office, and said,

“It's Kristina, Professor.”

“Oh, of course! Come right on in!” sounded a voice from inside, and Kristina opened the door to find Flitwick sitting in a chair, marking papers most likely from the Gryffindors, as she knew that they were the class he'd had earlier in the day. “Kristina! How are you?”

“I'm well, Professor, and you?”

“I'm well as well. Now, since you've proven yourself proficient in _Wingardium Leviosa_ , as well as other charms, I thought you might like to try the _Cantus_ charm. It allows one to create music, and play it directly out of one's mind. Would you like to try it?”

“Of course!” Kristina said excitedly.

_I never knew a charm like this existed! I hope I can master it and make music to listen to with it!_

###

Dylan walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, sighing as he went. He knew that he would likely be lectured about the righteous feud he was keeping going with Slytherin.

_Why can't the adults understand that_ I'm _in the right, and Harry and the Slytherins are in the wrong?_ he thought. _After all, I_ am _the Boy-Who-Lived, so I should have more influence, right? They should pay more attention to me, and less to the pathetic Slytherins that are basically Death Eaters-in-training. They're just going to follow Voldemort if he gets resurrected, and another Dark Lord if he doesn't. They're worthless - we should just expel all of them._ Especially _Harry and Draco,_ he added as an afterthought. _Harry was given a chance to come back to the Light, and he refused! Why would he have done that if he didn't want to be with blood purists and Death Eaters and who knows what else? There's no other explanation!_

“Lemon drops,” Dylan spat at the gargoyles, and they moved out of his way. Dylan could've sworn they were looking at him with a disapproving gaze, but he ignored what was likely just a figment of his imagination.

“Ah, Dylan, my boy! How are you?”

“Fine, Professor,” Dylan said lightly. “What's this about?”

“The feud, Dylan, the feud. It's gone on since you came here, and that was three weeks ago. Don't you think you've taught the Slytherins enough of a lesson?”

“To be completely honest, sir, no, I don't,” said Dylan, dropping the false cheeriness. “They're all basically Death Eaters, blood purists, or both! Why don't you just expel all of them and never let anyone into Slytherin again?”

“Dylan, my boy,” Dumbledore began, letting out a sigh. “Slytherins are not all evil, just as Gryffindors are not all good. Yes, many of the Death Eaters were Slytherins, and many of my force, the Order of the Phoenix, were Gryffindors, but that is not a hard-and-fast rule. I had Slytherins in my Order, and Voldemort had Gryffindors in his Death Eaters.” Dylan was feeling his resolve weaken, and threw out his last resort,

“Then, why are all the Slytherins blood purists?” he said.

“Because not all of them _are_ ,” said Dumbledore. “Yes, many of them are, but your brother, for one, is not one, and there are several in their fourth year in Slytherin that are dedicated to similar ideals as you and I. And it would unbecoming of me as a headmaster to expel students based on their prejudices before I had done everything in my power to change said prejudices. And going through Hogwarts, and seeing the faces of and meeting those whom one is supposed to hate can change those prejudices. Not overnight, no, but over time, one can come to realize that Muggleborns are, indeed, people as well.” Dylan felt his resolve shatter, and he said,

“I suppose, Professor. I'll try and stop the feud.”

“I will speak to Severus and Minerva about it, so that they may encourage the fighting in their respective houses to end. Thank you, my boy. You've made my job much easier.”

“You're welcome, I guess.” Dylan got up and walked out of the room, going back down the stairs and towards Professor McGonagall’s office. He had a lesson, after all.

Dylan knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door after walking for a few minutes, saying,

“It's Dylan,” and waiting for a response.

“Mr. Potter, do come in,” was the response. He did, and saw Professor McGonagall in a chair, sipping what he assumed was tea.

_I hope she doesn't lecture me about the feud too, like Dumbledore,_ he thought.

“Professor, what am I going to learn today?” Dylan asked, deliberately trying to avoid the topic of the feud by jumping right in, and McGonagall replied,

“A defensive spell, likely the first you will ever learn. Its incantation is _Protego_. Have you heard of it?” Dylan racked his brain, trying to remember if he did or not.

“I don't know, maybe once or twice?”

“Well then, you will learn of it now.” McGonagall went over to a bookshelf and pulled a title down. She flipped through the pages, and once she found the page she was looking for, she walked over to Dylan. “Mr. Potter, read this entry for the spell now, and tell me any questions you have. There's a table over there at which you may sit.” Dylan walked over to said table after taking the book, and began to read.

###

Harry walked to Snape's office, after telling Draco that he'd be back in about two hours. He knocked on the door, and Snape said,

“Come in, Potter,” in a neutral tone of voice. Harry went in, and shut the door behind him after he entered.

“Sir, what am I going to learn today?” Snape was standing up, appearing to be checking his potions ingredients that he stored in his office, and said,

“Three things, Potter - patience, potions, and of the _magi deorum_.”

“I've never heard the last term, what is it?”

“So, it seems you will learn patience first. I will tell you, Potter, but only after you have correctly brewed _this_ potion.” When Snape said “this”, a set of instructions appeared on the wall facing Harry, and a cauldron slid out from the wall to his right. “I will tell you what the potion is after you brew it properly, or if you guess correctly.”

“Alright, Professor,” said Harry, and he began to get the ingredients required for the potion. He lost himself in the instructions and the chopping, crushing, and stirring.

Forty-five minutes later, Harry stood over his cauldron after removing it from the heat and said,

“I believe I'm done, sir.”

“Is that so?” Snape asked, coming over to Harry and inspecting the liquid in the cauldron. “It is a smooth, purple color, without any lumps - well done so far. What is the consistency?” Snape pulled a stirring rod from the wall and swirled it around in Harry's potion. “Not too thick, not too thin - well done, Potter. Now, what is your final guess as to what this does?”

“The lavender petals serve to calm, but the werewolf hair would generally negate that effect. The scarab carapaces are an interesting touch, since they are used to protect against something, but I haven't read up on them much... I have no clue, Professor.”

“It is the first base of my experimental potion to allow Lycanthropes to retain their senses while in wolf form. There are a few more bases, each taking anywhere from a half-hour to three days to brew - and that is not taking into account the time it takes _after_ the bases are made, and the final potion must be brewed. This had the cheapest ingredients for any of the bases, therefore I conducted this experiment to ascertain whether or not you were capable of brewing on of them. And you did. Well done.” Harry smiled, and said,

“So, what are the _magi deorum_?”

“Bottle this potion and then I will tell you. Be sure to mark it as potion B1WFB-7. I have my methods of labeling potions that no one else should understand, in case of a compromised storeroom.” Harry nodded and wondered why Snape would worry that his office, the second-most secure place in the school, could be compromised, but labeled it as he said anyway. After he was done, he handed it to Snape and sat down in a chair at a table next to a bookshelf.

Snape pulled a volume off of the shelf, one whose title was “The Divine Mages”, and put it on the table.

“First of all, you are not to discuss this book, any of its contents, or anything about the _magi deorum_ , without my permission or someone else bringing it up in conversation. Even then, I hope you will exercise extreme caution. You are also not to discuss any of our conversations held in the latter half of our twice-weekly two hours with anyone but me, unless I give you permission. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Just to make sure you know, it is the latter hour of our time, so this you may not discuss without my permission.”

“I understand,” Harry said solemnly, knowing that whatever the _magi deorum_ were, it was secret and very important.

“Good. So, to start off, you are aware of what Lords and Ladies are, correct?” Harry nodded. “What are they?”

“Wizards and witches of extraordinary power,” said Harry.

“Not simply that, but Declared to either the Light or the Dark,” said Snape. “Without a Declaration, one with extraordinary power is simply a Lord- or Lady-level wizard or witch. That is important.” Harry nodded slowly, understanding the difference. “Thus, going off that basis, the _magi deorum_ are mages so powerful they transcend mortality and become immortal. Most of them are Declared Lords or Ladies, but some are undeclared, or Gray.”

“The _magi deorum_ are more powerful than the average Lord or Lady, if average can even be a term applied to them. There has not been a _magus deorum_ in at least a century and a half.”

“Sir? Are these _magi deorum_ more powerful than Voldemort and Professor Dumbledore?”

“Without a doubt. The _magi deorum_ , in terms of raw magical power, are at least ten times the Dark Lord and the headmaster combined. Though this does not mean that one could not be defeated by one of them with a well-placed killing curse, though historically, most _magi deorum_ have protections against such things, which are closely guarded secrets.”

“Why?”

“Would you like the common petty tyrant to be able to resist the killing curse?”

“I get your point, sir.”

“The _magi deorum_ , as the last one Ascended a century and a half ago, are not very well-known, and as such, there is not much information on the subject. Ascension is the process by which the _magi deorum_ leave this world and go to the World Above. Muggles call it Heaven, but it is not a paradise for mortals, and thus is an inaccurate term. They may still be Summoned by powerful enough mortals whom they deem worthy of their time, but few fulfill those criteria. Summonings are extremely dangerous, Potter,” Snape said when Harry opened his mouth. “Do _not_ try one, or you will find yourself dead, either by the Summoning itself or my wand.”

“I assumed that, but then why are you telling me this? Why do I have to know about things I'll never use?”

“Because, Potter, one day you may want to gain power, and knowledge is not just a means _to_ power - it _is_ power. One day, you may be able to summon a _magus deorum_ \- though I do not see that day on the horizon at all now - and you will need to know what a _magus deorum_ is, can do, and the consequences of Summoning one. Now, read the first page, and ask me any questions you have.”

###

Albus Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair. It had been a tiring day, all being said and done.

_Especially the conversation with Dylan - I wish that he understood more. Ah, well, he is young yet. He will learn, and become the Boy-Who-Lived, truly. He cannot_ not _do that. He is our savior from the chaos that is Tom, and for him to fail, the world would fail. And Tom_ will _come back - there is no doubt about it._

_The misguided revolution that Tom tried to start shows his naïveté - the world can not be recreated by a single group of insurgents. It must be built on by all people of the world. There is no other way for permanent stability, that which the Light seeks to protect. There is no other way to create a nation - all people must be included, or the nation will fall._

_The world needs the Light, and now more than ever. As the Dark comes ever closer, the Light must protect the world from it. I am that Light now, but Dylan must become that Light as well. The prophecy has decreed it. And as for Harry... If he is to be Dylan's foil, as he seems poised to do, then I must protect Dylan from him._

Albus went back to writing the letter to Lily and James, in which he informed them that Dylan had agreed to end the feud between Slytherin and Gryffindor. He hoped that he wouldn't be sorry for sending it, and that Dylan would follow through with his promise.

_There comes a point at which one must let others do the work that one cannot do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, please comment, leave kudos, and/or subscribe!


	6. Chapter 4: Halloween

Chapter 4: Halloween

About a month later, Harry was in his room, reading _The Sanctuary of the Mind_ , as instructed by Snape to do in preparation for his upcoming lesson. He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Harry, you _do_ know that the Halloween Feast is about to start?” Draco said from outside.

“Yes, I do - just give me a minute.”

“Harry, the rest of the house left five minutes ago. If we don't leave _now_ , we won't make it in time!”

“Fine, I'm coming,” said Harry, and got up, putting on his shoes and going out to the common room. “Happy?”

“Very much so,” said Draco, and he began to walk towards the Great Hall, Harry in tow.

Once they reached there, they walked quickly to get to their table, and sat down just as Dumbledore tapped his glass with his spoon.

“Welcome, students and faculty, to the Halloween Feast!” Dumbledore said, smiling. “I hope that your first two months of classes have gone well, and I hope you continue doing your best in all classes. However, I have a few words to say on another subject.” There were some confused glances thrown around, but Dumbledore answered any confusion that anyone had with his next words.

“The feud that went on between Gryffindor and Slytherin during the beginning of the year has been over for a while now, yet we must vow to never let something like this happen again.” Dumbledore cast his gaze around the room, stopping on Harry and Draco and then on who Harry assumed were Dylan and Ron. “It is disgraceful that it could start, disgraceful that it _did_ start, and disgraceful that it endured as long as it did. It must serve as a reminder to us of the fact that when we fight, both sides are hurt, and when we are peaceful, friendships and bridges can be built, not burned.”

“And so, I will challenge all of you to make one friend or connection with someone that is not in your house, by the end of November. Perhaps you sit with them at a meal, you talk to them after class, or you study with them in the library. It does not matter, as long as you begin to see that the ‘others’ in the ‘other’ houses are people, just like you. Thank you all. Let the feast begin!” Food appeared on the plates with that, and everyone started eating. Until the door burst open, and Professor Quirrell came stumbling in.

Harry knew that something was wrong when he saw the look in Quirrell’s eyes. It was empty and devoid of emotion, and he said,

“T-t-troll. I-i-in the d-dungeons. Thought you all sh-should kn-know.” He collapsed on the ground, and Dumbledore announced grimly,

“The feast is postponed until further notice. Prefects, take your houses’ students back to their common room, with the exception of Slytherin. They will go with the Ravenclaws to the outside of their tower while the faculty deal with the threat. Severus, Minerva, Filius? Will you come with me to take care of the troll?” The entire student body got up and began following their prefects to their respective common rooms, and as Harry and Draco were going up the stairs, Kristina came up to them and asked,

“Can you help me find and warn Hermione about the troll? She and I had a fight earlier today, and I think she's in the dungeons! Please?”

“Of course I'll help,” Harry said, smiling. “Why wouldn't I?”

“What?” Draco asked, shocked. “Why should we risk our lives for a -”

“Do _not_ finish that sentence, Draco, or you will be sorry,” Harry said, anger leaking out into his voice. “She's a person, just like you and me. We're going - Kristina couldn't handle the troll on her own if she ran into it, so we need to go too.” Harry began to walk away from the line of Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and Kristina and Draco followed him down to the dungeons.

“Where is she, so that we can -” Draco began, and then all three heard a high-pitched shriek come from around the corner. “Well, that was fast.” Harry, Kristina, and Draco ran to the source of the scream, which turned out to be a girl's bathroom. “You have _got_ to be _fucking_ kidding me!”

“Draco, we don't have time,” Harry snapped. “We need to rescue her!” The three ran into the bathroom, and saw a massive, lumbering troll standing in front of Hermione, who was crouched under a sink. “Wands out!”

“They already are, Harry,” Draco said, terror evident in his voice. “How are we going to kill this?”

“Guerilla tactics,” Kristina said, and charged at the troll, shouting, “ _Expelliarmus_!” The club launched out of the troll’s hand, and Harry got a hint of what Kristina was trying to do.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” Harry cast on the club, and levitated it up above the troll’s head. It looked up, and Harry dropped it, right on its face. It staggered and screamed in pain, clutching at its head with a giant gray hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco running over to Hermione, but paid little attention to it as the troll turned towards himself.

“Harry, run!” Kristina yelled, and Harry smiled as he leaped to the side, just before a piece of pipe thrown by the troll would have hit him.

_That was too close, but I have a plan... Right? I can cast_ that _spell, since Snape said I could in life-threatening situations, right?_

“ _Ungula Tenebrarum_!” Harry whispered, and a claw of darkness shot out of his wand and clutched at the troll’s throat.

“Where did you learn _that_ spell?” Draco and Kristina asked simultaneously.

“Later!” Harry told them, and focused to make his claw crush the troll’s throat and windpipe. He heard crunching, and then saw the troll fall over, hands clutching at its throat, and hit its head on the wall. “We good? Then we should leave before the teachers get here -”

“Too late, _Potter_ ,” said Snape, coming up from behind him, and Harry felt his heart sink and turned around. “I suppose I should give you a chance to explain yourself, hmm? Then do so. Now.”

“Um, I thought fighting a troll might be -”

“What he means to say, Professor,” Kristina said quickly, cutting Harry off. “Is that I asked him to come down here to help find Hermione, because she and I had an argument, and she came down here, and didn't know about the troll. The Prefects didn't want to send anyone to tell you, since they were supposed to bring everyone up to Ravenclaw Tower, so I decided that it would be best and in the interest of all of us if a student didn't die and that the best way to accomplish that would be to get Harry and Draco to help me get Hermione out before the troll came.”

“You are speaking extraordinarily quickly, Ms. Potter,” Professor Flitwick said, coming into the bathroom. “You should enunciate more if you wish to be believed.”

“No, she is telling the truth, Filius,” Snape said, and Harry wondered if he’d used Legilimency on Kristina.

_If he did, we will have to talk._

“I think the first order of business would be to have everyone involved move up to the Hospital Wing so that Madame Pomfrey can make sure you are all alright,” said Snape. “Filius, if you will escort your two students, and I will my two? I wish to speak with them privately before they forget what happened.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Flitwick said, and went over to Hermione and pulled her to her feet, with some help from Kristina, and walked out with both in tow, after a glance back from Kristina.

“What were you _thinking_?” Snape hissed after the other three were out of earshot. “Taking on a troll, as first-years? You both could have _died_!”

“If we hadn't come then Hermione would have died for certain, and this way no one _did_ die,” Harry said defiantly.

“You failed to accurately take into account the risks of your actions!”

“I knew Kristina and I could stall it long enough for Draco to get Hermione out - it was basically luck that we killed the troll.”

“Yes, and not just that! The entire situation rested on whether or not you would be lucky enough to survive!”

“Sir, isn't that what life is?” Snape stopped talking, and looked directly at Harry, meeting his gaze. Harry didn't feel an intrusion, so he let it happen.

“Regardless, Potter, Draco, you both risked your lives unnecessarily, and for that, you both have two weeks of detention with me at nine o'clock, every night.”

“I agree that we risked our lives, sir, but it was for a goal I believe was necessary. Had Hermione been killed, Kristina would be devastated, and that would likely lead me to a worse existence as well. I know that I made the right choice, sir, but I will accept the punishment you give me, since that was a possible consequence of my choice.”

“Let us go to the Hospital Wing and make sure neither of you are severely injured,” said Snape, ending the conversation, and began to lead the two Slytherins up the stairs, who followed in silence.

###

The following day, Kristina went to visit Hermione after classes. Hermione was being treated for shock and a few cuts that she’d acquired from shrapnel in the fight with the troll. Kristina wanted to make sure she was doing alright, and to make sure that she and Hermione were still friends. As she opened the door to the Hospital Wing, she saw Hermione talking with Madam Pomfrey, and then she looked up at Kristina.

“How do you feel?” Kristina asked, looking at Hermione.

“Better than yesterday.” There were a couple seconds of tense silence, and then Madam Pomfrey said,

“I'll leave you two girls to it,” and walked away to some other part of the Hospital Wing.

“So, um,” Kristina began, looking around nervously.

“What?” Hermione asked, looking directly at Kristina.

“I'm sorry for telling you that you weren't my friend anymore!” Kristina said quickly, looking down. “I didn't mean it!”

“Why did you say it, then?” Hermione asked, in a voice laced with tears, and Kristina looked to see Hermione crying. Kristina looked down again, feeling guilty that she'd made Hermione cry a second time.

“Because I was insensitive and angry,” Kristina mumbled. “And because I thought you were trying to one-up me. I'm sorry.”

“You _know_ that you’re my first, best, and only friend, Kristina! It was so, so _painful_ to hear you say that!” Kristina just kept looking down, and felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She clenched her fists by her sides and asked,

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I’m not _done_!” Hermione said, wiping the tears from her face. “And then, and then you _had_ to come and save me, and show that you still cared about me, and now I can’t hate you, because you, your brother, and even that bloody _Malfoy_ _saved_ my _life_ , and now I don’t know _what_ to think! Do you think I’m a useless bookworm, or do you think I’m smart? Do you think I’m too emotional or do you think it’s ok for me to cry? Are you _not_ my friend or _are_ you?”

“Hermione, I think you’re smart. I think it’s ok for you to cry. I think you’re a great person. I think you’re nice. I think you’re good at spells. I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. And if you want to be, we _are_ still friends.” There were a few seconds of silence, and then Kristina realized Hermione’s shoulders were shaking, and she was wiping her eyes.

“Thank you, thank you, Kristina. Thank god for you,” Hermione said, tears still in her voice. “Thanks for being my friend.”

“You’re welcome,” Kristina said, going over to Hermione and giving her a hug. “Thanks for being my friend too.”

###

Harry walked into Snape's office for his lesson, and saw the man sitting at his desk, reading a book.

“Potter, did you read the parts of the book I instructed you to?”

“Yes, sir, but I have a question,” Harry said quietly. “About what happened with the troll.”

“What is it?” Snape asked, not looking up from his book.

“Did you use Legilimency on my sister, to know that she was telling the truth?” Snape put a bookmark in his book, closed it, and looked up at Harry slowly.

“Potter, I did not use Legilimency on your sister. However, I can tell when people are lying more easily than most, as a result of my Legilimency. I have learned to associate certain movements and actions with both truth and lies, which allowed me to determine that you were lying, and that your sister was telling the truth.”

“Will I ever be able to do that?” Harry asked, and Snape replied,

“You may, if you train in Legilimency, as well as Occlumency. I would not allow you to practice Legilimency on me, and if you told a student you wanted to practice on them, they would likely say no, and then run to their parents or Dumbledore to have you expelled. Legilimency is not allowed to be taught to students at Hogwarts, though it still happens occasionally in private lessons, such as these.”

“You would have to teach yourself the theory, and then practice on a consenting Occlumens. I repeat, I am not willing to do that.”

“I see, sir. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“You are welcome. Now, what did you learn about Occlumency from reading your book?”

“I learned that one's focus on a memory, when trying to protect it, can be detrimental,” said Harry. “I learned that one should focus on a memory that is well known, but one not wanted to be kept secret, so the intruder focuses on that instead of the memory that is being protected.”

“I see you've learned the theory. Pick a memory that you do not wish for me to see, Potter, and protect it! _Legilimens_!” Harry felt his mind being invaded, and thought grimly,

_I'll defend my whole mind from him! He has no right to see it!_ Harry closed his eyes, and saw a dark forest, lit by a full moon above. _This is the place I visualized when I was meditating for the first time! Is this my mind?_ He began walking, and then saw a brief glimpse of movement at the far end of the forest. He began to run, and then saw a barrier of light in front of the movement, blocking him.

Harry imagined the barrier breaking, and to his surprise, it broke, letting him through. He chased after what he assumed was the intruder - Snape - and caught up just as Snape got to the largest tree in the forest, in the center. Snape touched the tree, and Harry felt Snape's mind trying to find the memory he had chose to not let Snape see.

_Get_ out _!_ Harry thought, and conjured up an image of a burning house, that Snape was inside of, and shot the image at Snape. He felt the onslaught cease for a couple seconds, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then Snape broke the image, and continued searching, leaving Harry to wonder how hard it would be to get Snape out. Harry hoped that Snape wouldn't find the image of him punching Dylan when he was six - and then realized that he'd made a mistake, as he felt the memory get seen by Snape. He felt Snape's cold laughter, and then felt him leave.

Harry opened his eyes, and looked at Snape, who was still sitting at his desk.

“Sir, why did you do that?” Harry demanded.

“Because I had to be sure that you were at least somewhat competent at protecting your memories, which you are. How did you manage to fabricate that image of a burning house?”

“I'm not sure, it just seemed to happen when I wanted it to,” said Harry. “Is that unusual?”

“Somewhat, though not extraordinary, at least among Occlumens. Most take some time to master that technique, but you seemed to do it quite well.”

“I only managed to stall you for two seconds! How is that ‘well’?”

“With a single image, you managed to stall me for two seconds. Once you become a practiced Occlumens, you will be able to create hundreds of images to stall your opponents in the blink of an eye. If all retain that same quality, then you will be able to hold them indefinitely - and hurt them in the process.”

“How do I hurt them?”

“By confronting them with painful or disturbing images, like you did to me,” Snape said. “If you get lucky, you might be able to conjure an image similar to a traumatic memory your opponent has, and _that_ will almost certainly stop them.”

“I see, sir.” Harry looked directly at Snape. “Please don't invade my mind again without giving me warning.”

“You must be able to handle yourself with little to no notice, Potter - but I will restrict the surprise attacks to once a month.”

“I suppose I can live with that.”

“Is there anything else you would like to speak to me about today, Potter?”

“Madam Hooch thinks I could be a seeker for Slytherin next year, sir.”

“Unsurprising. Your father was a very good Quidditch player, but I would caution you against playing it.”

“Why, sir?”

“Because I do not want you to become preoccupied with a sport that has made countless people arrogant and abrasive. I encourage you to fly in your free time, if you enjoy it - the exercise is good for you. However, Quidditch requires more of a time commitment and makes many of the people who play it overly brash and competitive.”

“Alright, Professor - I won't play it next year, but can I ask my parents to buy me a broom?”

“For next year, you may - if you think that they will agree to it.”

“I guess I'll see what my relationship with them is like this summer, then,” said Harry. “I'm not sure if I'll be in a position to ask anything of them.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.” Harry got up and walked out the door, going to find Draco.

###

Kristina was walking with Hermione and Padma Patil to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Kristina had learned a few days previous that Padma studied mostly alone, and decided to ask her to join her and Hermione when they studied. She had done so, and now the three hung around each other much of the time.

“You know that charm that Flitwick was trying to teach us last week? The Cleaning Charm?” Padma was asking.

“Yeah,” Kristina said, glancing at Hermione, who was just looking ahead without speaking. “What about it?”

“I tried to use it on one of my stained socks, but I don't think it did anything. Do you think you could teach me how to use it after classes today, Kristina?”

“Sure - I think I have it down pretty well, so I'll see if I can help you.” They reached the classroom, and Kristina said,

“I need to talk to Hermione, Padma - you go on ahead.” Padma nodded, and went inside the room, while Hermione just looked at Kristina. She walked over to a nearby corridor, Hermione following, made sure no one was coming, and said, “What's bothering you, Hermione?”

“Nothing!” Hermione denied, a little too forcefully for Kristina to believe her.

“You haven't talked to me about anything important since breakfast this morning, Hermione - and you've just been staring ahead. Why are you avoiding me?”

“I'm with you wherever you go, practically! I'm not _avoiding_ you!”

“You know what I mean, Hermione.”

“Why would you even care? You've got Padma now, you don't need _me_ anymore -”

“Now hold on!” Kristina said, widening her eyes. “You think that because I'm friends with Padma, that I'm going to abandon you?” Hermione nodded slightly, and Kristina continued, taking the edge off her voice that she realized had been there. “Hermione, people make friends, and they don't abandon the friends they already have just because they make new ones.”

“But you probably think that I'm not worth it, because I'm too much of a bookworm -”

“Who's _telling_ you this, Hermione?” Kristina asked, incredulous. “You're my friend. Padma’s my friend. You're both my friends! Why would I say that I think you're a great friend if I didn't mean it?”

“Because you want to build me up to watch me fall! That's what _he_ did! Why wouldn't you?”

“Who's this ‘he’ and why are you comparing me to him? I'm certainly not a ‘he’, I hope you know,” Kristina said, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

“The first person I thought was my friend, but then he told me he wasn't ever my friend, and it _hurt_ so bad, and I don't _ever_ want to go through that again!” Hermione was raising her voice, but Kristina didn't care. All that she cared about was making sure that Hermione would feel that she was her friend.

“Hermione, I'm _never_ going to say that to you, ever again. I'm sorry for when I _did_ say it, but I will be your friend forever, until you do something completely stupid and malicious - which I know you won't do. So I'll be your friend, and Padma can be your friend too, and everything is going to be alright.” Kristina gave Hermione a hug, which she returned.

“Thanks,” she said, sniffling. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. It's what friends are for, right?”

###

Dylan was walking with Ron when he saw Neville coming towards him. Dylan immediately felt guilty for what he'd said near the beginning of the year, and thought,

_Neville seems like an alright sort. I wish I didn't say what I did at the start of the year. I could invite him to study with us. Isn't he good at Herbology? Then he could help Ron and I._

“Hey, Neville,” said Dylan.

“H-hey, Dylan,” Neville stuttered. “What do y-y-you want?”

“I'm wondering if you wanted to join us when we study. You're good at Herbology, right?” Neville nodded somewhat reservedly. “Then me and Ron could use some help with that. We'll help you with the stuff we're good at, too. Do you want to?”

“I'll th-think about it,” he said. “Can Parvati - you know, Parvati Patil - come too? She and I've been studying together, and I wouldn't want her to have to study alone.”

“That's fine,” said Dylan, ignoring Ron’s looks of incredulity. “We'll meet in the library after lunch tomorrow, alright?”

“S-sure!” Neville said. “See you then!” He walked off, and once he was out of earshot, Ron whispered,

“Mate, why do you want _him_ to study with us? And _Patil_ too?”

“Ron, we’ve been getting abysmal grades in Potions, Herbology, and History of Magic. We need to get better at those things, and Neville’s good in Herbology and History, and I hear Parvati has a passing grade in Potions. That's more than we have, so I think we should get as much help as we can.”

“Alright, mate - but don't blame me if we don't start getting better grades.”

“I won't.”

“Good.”

###

A week after Halloween, Dylan was at his lesson with McGonagall and was being taught how to cast a Stunning Spell when there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Um, it's Kristina Potter - I need some help with some of the transfiguration homework.”

“Come in,” said McGonagall. The door opened, and Kristina came in, looking at Dylan for a second, but otherwise didn't comment on his presence. Instead, she said,

“For the essay that's due next week, I need to figure out what is known about human transfiguration, Professor, and I can't find anything in the library about it. Might you be able to help me with finding resources that talk about it?”

“Ms. Potter, _why_ did you select human transfiguration as your topic?”

“It seemed interesting, Professor - is it impossible? Is that why there's nothing on it?”

“There is nothing in the library on it because it is an extremely dangerous branch of transfiguration - few students could be trusted with knowing that information and not attempting it. If you were a couple years older, Ms. Potter, I would present you with a pass to the restricted section, but as you are a first year, I will simply ask you to choose a new topic.”

“Fine, professor,” Kristina said, visibly disappointed. “Thank you for your time.” Casting one last glance at Dylan, then appearing to remember something, Kristina ran out, closing the door behind her.

“Now, Mr. Potter, shall we continue your instruction on the Stunning Spell?” Dylan nodded. “The incantation is _Stupefy_...”

###

“Harry? Can I talk to you?” Kristina asked Harry at breakfast. “Outside the Great Hall?”

“Sure, I suppose,” said Harry, curious as to what Kristina wanted. He got up and followed her out of the Great Hall, and asked, “What's this about?”

“I've invited Hermione over for the Christmas holidays,” Kristina said, scuffing a shoe on the cobblestones. “And Dylan's invited Ron. I'm just thinking that if you were planning to invite Draco or someone, it might not end well, since Ron’s going to be there.”

“Wait, Dylan invited _Ron_ over? For _all_ of the holiday?” Harry asked, disbelieving. Kristina nodded, and Harry said icily, “I've got have a mind just to invite Draco over and see the destruction that would cause, but that wouldn't be productive, now would it?” Harry smiled, showing all his teeth. “I'm going to write Mum and Dad a letter. Oh yes, a _strongly_ worded letter.”

“Harry, why’re you so mad at Mum and Dad? Why not Dylan?”

“Oh, I'm mad at Dylan - as mad as I can be, anyway - but Mum and Dad _allowed_ this, after knowing that Ron punched me. They tried to get me re-sorted, did you know? And now this? I'm not going back to them for Christmas, since it's obvious they don't care for my safety at all.” Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm down and not faint from the spell that still hadn't been removed.

_I'm going to write them a letter, and I'm going to ask them if I can stay at Hogwarts. If they say yes, then nothing changes, but if they say no, I get to defy them openly. That'll be_ fun _._

“I'm not going to be home for Christmas, Kristina. I'm probably going to stay at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, ok. I won't tell them; that's your job.”

“Indeed it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, comment, leave kudos, and/or subscribe! Next chapter is an interlude again - this time multiple letters, to and from Harry's parents.


	7. Interlude 2: Letters To and From Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to look at the dates and who the letters are to/from.

Interlude 2: Letters To and From Parents

_11/10/1991_

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm wondering if I can stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, since I have a lot of schoolwork to get done and I don't think I could get all of it done if I went home - there’re too many distractions there. So I'd like to stay at Hogwarts, please._

_Love,_

_Harry_

 

_11/11/1991_

_Dear Harry,_

_Life is about more than just schoolwork. You can bring it home and see what you can finish, but you need to be home for the holidays. You've always spent Christmas with us; why would this one be any different? Besides, schoolwork isn't that important when you're your age. You should be having fun with your family and friends, not staying at school to work on something that doesn't matter._

_On another note, can you send us more mail about how you're doing? I know it's hard, but once you get into the habit of it, it gets easy._

_Looking forward to seeing you for the holidays!_

_Love,_

_Dad_

 

_11/12/1991_

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_If I'm coming over for Christmas, can I bring my friend Draco Malfoy? We're really great friends and I'd be sad if I couldn't spend Christmas with him. He's hoping he can spend it with me, too._

_Love,_

_Harry_

 

_11/13/1991_

_Dear Albus,_

_Harry wants to bring Draco Malfoy over for Christmas! How should we respond? We feel like we're losing him to Slytherin - and to the Dark. What would be the best way to tell him no?_

_Sincerely,_

_Lily and James_

 

_11/13/1991_

_Dear Lily and James,_

_Simply explain to him why you do not want the Malfoy scion in your house. I am sure that, unless he is of a disagreeable mind, he will understand._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts_

 

_11/14/1991_

_Dear Harry,_

_Draco Malfoy is not an acceptable friend for you to have. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was a Death Eater, and was extremely close to Voldemort. He is not allowed over to our home, for that reason. I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to put my family in danger._

_Love,_

_Mum_

 

_11/15/1991_

_Mum,_

_I never knew you were as prejudiced as the people you claimed to hate. You must be more similar than you think._

_Insulting my friend is not ok. Saying he's a danger is not alright. “The crimes of the parent are not the crimes of the child.” I know Draco’s been raised to hate Muggleborns, but he can change. He is changing. I've not heard him call them the slur for at least a month and a half now, while you say that because his father was a Death Eater, he must be evil, too. You seem to be under the delusion that I'll come over for Christmas after you've insulted my friend. I will cure you of this: I'm not coming home for Christmas, at least not this year. I'm sorry, but I don't think I could hold my tongue around this subject for two weeks. It's better this way, I'm sure, than the alternative._

_Harry_

 

_11/16/1991_

_Dear Harry,_

_Why did you say that you weren't coming over? How can Draco Malfoy mean more to you than your family?_

_Love,_

_Dad_

 

_11/17/1991_

_Dad,_

_Because he hasn't tried to get me re-sorted out of the house I belong in, he hasn't insulted my friends, and he hasn't let prejudices get in the way of our relationship. You and Mum have._

_Harry_

 

_11/18/1991_

_Dear Harry,_

_Please come over for Christmas! We can fix everything then! It'll all be good, and we'll have a great celebration for it! Please, just come over!_

_Love,_

_Dad_

 

_11/19/1991_

_Mum and Dad,_

_You don't seem to understand. I'm not tolerating you insulting my friend. I'm not coming home for Christmas. This is my last letter to you before Christmas, so let me say again: I'm not coming home for Christmas. There is nothing you could say or do at this point to make me come home for the holidays._

_Harry_

 

_11/20/1991_

_Dear Albus,_

_Harry's refused to come over for Christmas. He says that there's nothing that will change his mind. We're not sure what to do next, and we know he's too close to that Malfoy scion. Can you do anything for that? Perhaps have a talk with him about the dangers of Death Eaters’ children? We're at our wits’ end about what to do._

_Sincerely,_

_Lily and James_

 

_11/20/1991_

_Dear Harry,_

_We’re sorry to hear that you won’t be coming over for Christmas. Feel free to ask Kristina and Dylan to take you with them if you change your mind._

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. Comment, leave kudos, subscribe, and/or recommend this fic to your friends! (See, there's another thing you can do after this update!) All of those really help me out a lot. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 5: The Month Before Christmas

Chapter 5: The Month Before Christmas

Harry walked down to the dungeons from breakfast, Draco by his side.

“Who was that letter from, Harry? What did it say?” Draco asked.

“I'll tell you once we get to the common room,” said Harry, with an edge in his voice, clenching his fist and crumpling the letter that was in it.

“Are you alright?”

“No.” Harry began to walk faster, and didn't expand on his response until both of them got through to the common room, and the passageway sealed behind them. He took a deep breath, looked around to make sure no one was there, and said, ironclad will controlling his anger, “My parents and I have been writing letters for the past several days, Draco. In one of them they insulted you. In my next letter, I told them I wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. This,” Harry raised up the letter. “Said that I could just ask Dylan or Kristina if I changed my mind. As if!”

“I don't know what they're thinking, or even if they are - they tried to get me re-sorted at the beginning of the year, and now they think I'll come crawling back to them? _Hell_ no!”

“Harry, are you -” Draco tried to say, but was cut off.

“Let me finish! They think that because I'm in Slytherin, that I'll be going Dark or something, because I'm around the children of former Death Eaters! They're just as prejudiced as most Purebloods are! They're such _idiots_ and I'm _not_ going back to them for Christmas!”

“That's perfectly reasonable, Harry, given the circumstances,” said Draco, and put his arms around Harry. “I can see why you would think that, and it makes sense. You should not have to go back to them for Christmas if you think they are being unreasonable. So, allow me to ask you, Harry: are you planning on staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?”

“Yeah, I mean, what other choice do I have?”

“You could come with me to Malfoy Manor, and spend Christmas with my family,” Draco told him. “I have already asked Mother and Father, and they said it was fine if I wanted to bring you there.”

“But... Draco, your father was a Death Eater! My parents would kill me if they knew I was in his presence for any length of time unsupervised!”

“Do they have to know? You are a Slytherin, and you know how to deceive. Let them think you stayed at Hogwarts - you can just tell anyone that confronts you about it later that you were sick, and didn't come out of your room much.”

“Draco, I'm nervous that your parents, especially your father, will be, how do I say this, prejudiced against me because I'm a Potter.”

“You were not prejudiced against me because I was a Malfoy; I am sure my parents will extend the same courtesy to you.”

“Draco, my parents are Light-Declared, and yours are Dark-Declared. My family has been Light-Declared for many generations, and I'm sure yours was Dark, too, for about as long. They might hate me -”

“They will not hate you for anything,” said Draco. “Unless you break something. Then they will.” Draco smirked, and Harry cracked a grin too. “In all seriousness, do _not_ break anything. They will be furious. But that aside, as long as you get them gifts, there shouldn't be any problem.”

“I suppose I can go, but you're sure they won't hate me?”

“I am certain.”

“Then I'll go.”

###

Harry was walking with Draco to Defense Against the Dark Arts when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He moved to brush it off, but as he did, saw Dylan behind him. Draco saw him too, and asked loudly,

“Now _what_ do you think you are doing with my friend, _Potter_?” People that were passing by stopped to look at the scene in progress, and Dylan replied, a malicious glint in his eye,

“ _Talking_ with him, Malfoy - have you ever done it with someone? I'm sure you have, but it doesn't show in your social interactions.”

“Both of you, stop!” Harry said, and turned to Dylan. “What do you want?”

“I want to know why you're not coming home for Christmas, Harry. Surely a little squabble that's over and done with can't make you not want to come home, right?”

“Not just that,” said Harry. “The fact that Ron punched me at the start of term, that Mum and Dad tried to get me re-sorted into Gryffindor, that they _insulted_ Draco - all of these and more are the reasons why I'm not going home for Christmas.”

“I see, so you’re letting your pride get in the way of what _really_ matters - family. Thanks for the update - I'll see you around, _traitor_.” Dylan walked off, leaving Harry thinking,

_Am I really just letting pride get in the way? No, I'm not - I'm making rational decisions based on empirical evidence. Dylan's just trying to discount the facts by appealing to my emotions. It won't work._

“Harry, let's go,” said Draco. “We're going to be late if we don't.”

“Draco, am I a prideful person?” Harry asked, walking towards the classroom.

“Not particularly. Are you doubting yourself because your idiot brother said something? Do not believe him - he’s not a reliable source of information.”

“I knew that last bit, but thanks.”

“You are welcome.”

###

The next day, when he was in the common room, a Prefect came up to Harry and told him,

“The headmaster wants to see you. He says that the password is persimmon beans.” Harry nodded, and began to pack up his things, and the Prefect went away.

_Hopefully this won't be about my family, but knowing Dumbledore, it probably will be,_ thought Harry. _If it is, I'll just tell him what they said and why I'm not liking them right now._ Harry put his bag in his room, and began walking up the stairs to the gargoyles that guarded the headmaster’s office.

“Persimmon beans,” he said as he reached them. They opened and let him through, then closed behind him. He walked up the stairs, then sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk, facing the man but not meeting his gaze. “What's this about, sir?”

“I'm simply trying to have a positive meeting with you, Harry, my boy,” said Dumbledore. “I realize that the last few ended on a sour note, and wished to build a positive relationship with you, as you are, of course, an impressive student.”

_Flattery will get you nowhere,_ thought Harry. _I can tell that you're trying to butter me up so that you have more influence over me. I won't let it work._

“Your work in Potions and Charms is extraordinary, and your achievements in Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense are not bad either,” Dumbledore went on. “Which is why I have a gift for you. You may, if you wish, consider it an early Christmas present. I have it here.” Dumbledore patted a book on his desk that Harry hadn't noticed when he entered. Its title read, _Ritualistic Potions: A Beginner’s Guide_. Harry could not conceal his interest, and almost looked up at Dumbledore's face, but stopped himself. “There is, however, a condition.”

“If you're trying to get me to go to my parents’ house for Christmas, Professor, you will be sorely disappointed,” said Harry, annoyed.

“No, no, Harry - I simply wish for you to truthfully answer a question: why have you befriended Draco Malfoy? It is simply a question,” he added after Harry scowled. “I do not intend to judge.”

_Oh,_ sure _you don't,_ Harry thought, but replied honestly,

“Because he was the one who invited me into Slytherin, and who has consistently made me feel welcome.”

“Thank you, Harry - that was all I wanted to know.” Dumbledore handed Harry the book. “I hope you enjoy delving into the study of ritualistic potions.”

“Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it.” Harry got up and walked back down and out of the office.

###

At his next lesson with Snape, Harry showed him the book Dumbledore had given him. Snape took a look at the cover and said incredulously,

“ _Dumbledore_ gave you this?” Harry nodded. “I see. It is likely that he means to attempt to get you closer to him, in order for you to be under his influence. Do not fall for it, but the book may have invaluable information.”

“So, I should use it?” Harry asked, and Snape nodded.

“Ritualistic potions are a subject that I am not very familiar with, having only a passing knowledge in them. I do believe that their effects vary widely, but share in common the added step of either using the potion in a ritual or brewing the potion as part of a ritual.”

“Do you know of any examples?”

“Only two - the Baptism of Fire potion, which is used as part of the Baptism of Fire ritual, and the Blood of Lambs potion, which is brewed as part of the ritual of the same name.”

“What do they do?”

“The Baptism of Fire potion, when used as intended, gives one an immunity to being hurt by fire and high temperatures, up to a certain point. Fiendfyre and lava are generally the points where the one ‘Baptized in Fire’ can be hurt by heat. The immunity is permanent, though there exist rituals to end it. There exists a side effect: one ‘Baptized in Fire’ is more vulnerable to cold temperatures, to the point of dying instantly if one is thrown into just above freezing water.”

“That seems both useful and exploitable by enemies,” said Harry thoughtfully, and Snape nodded.

“I had to learn it to attain my degree as a Potions Master, since it is complex but largely useless in application. The other one, the Blood of Lambs potion, is an entirely Dark potion. It requires sacrificing the life of a magical child under the age of six, by killing the child with the killing curse and channeling their soul into the potion. Drinking the potion will render one immune to Blood Magic against them.” Harry’s eyes were wide, and Snape said,

“If it is any consolation, the only reason I know about it was because the Dark Lord wished to see if it would work for him while I was in his service. He ended up deciding that it was not worth the soul of someone who was not yet able to even comprehend what a soul was, and therefore he did not order me to help prepare it.”

“Why didn't he just take one of the children of one of his enemies, and use them? They were almost certainly going to oppose him anyway,” said Harry.

“A soul is not a worthless thing, Potter - a soul is longer-lived than even the longest lived of wizards and witches. Souls are naturally reborn, but when a potion or ritual needs to use a soul, it stops that natural process of rebirth. To use another's soul to do so is something only madmen would do.”

“Wasn't Voldemort a madman?” Harry asked, confused. “Didn't he order the torturing and killing of hundreds?”

“No and yes. The Dark Lord ordered his Death Eaters to kill many, but torture was both rare and not endorsed by him. The individual Death Eaters chose to do so, mostly to Muggleborns, and if the Dark Lord found out, he would punish them. The reason you think torture was abundant is because of the propaganda spread during the war, that played to people’s fears.”

“Why did Voldemort fight at all, then, if he wasn't insane?”

“Because he wanted change,” Snape said. “He wanted much of Dark magic to be looked at as fine to use, as necessary and useful. As long as Dumbledore reigned, that would be impossible.”

“But then, doesn't that make Voldemort, I don't know, good? Or at least, not evil?”

“Potter, you will learn that good and evil are largely useless when trying to objectively determine something.”

“I see.” Harry thoughtfully looked over the book he’d been given, and asked, “Can we make a potion from this book?”

“Which one?” Snape said. “I will not make one that is completely useless in application.”

“How about...” Harry said, and the two began deciding which potion they would make.

###

Dylan was practicing his Shield Charm and Disarming Charm in an abandoned classroom when he heard a knock at the door. He stopped and slowly walked over to open it, and as he did, he heard a few voices outside. He saw a few Gryffindors, including Ron.

“What're you doing here, mate?”

“I'm, uh, practicing my spells,” Dylan said uncertainly. “What are you all doing here?”

“We wanted to see if you could teach us anything, mate,” said Ron. “After all, you're the one getting tutoring from McGonagall, so you must know _something_ that we don't.”

“Alright, I guess I can teach a few of you,” Dylan said. “But I'm not sure how much I can teach, that you're not being taught in class.”

“Mate, we only know the most basic of spells - even if you could teach us the Disarming Charm, that'd be great.”

“Yeah,” Parvati piped up. “After all, you're the Boy-Who-Lived.” Dylan noticed Neville behind Ron, and asked,

“Does Neville want to do this?”

“Y-Yeah, I do!” he said surprisingly forcefully. “I want to be good at more than Herbology, you know?”

“Alright, come in and we’ll get started.” Dylan led them in, and shut the door behind them.

###

As Kristina, in the abandoned classroom, played the last few notes of the symphony that she'd composed using the charm Flitwick had taught her, she heard clapping from outside. After she finished, she looked outside to see a Slytherin boy, slowly clapping his hands together.

“Kristina Potter, I presume?” he said, and Kristina nodded.

“And you are?”

“Blaise Zabini,” he said. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise. Any particular reason you're here?”

“I simply heard music, and decided to follow the beautiful sounds. You used the _Cantus_ Charm, did you not?” Kristina nodded, and Blaise continued. “Would you be interested in giving lessons to me in Charms? To master a charm such as the _Cantus_ Charm must take some skill, and I would appreciate it if you helped me master some of the charms I am required to know for schoolwork. Are you willing?”

“I'm not sure, I might have other things to do. Can I get back to you about this?”

“Of course. Simply ask your brother if you need to find me.”

“I will.”

“Thank you for your consideration,” said Blaise, nodding a farewell.

“You're welcome.” Blaise nodded again, and turned and left, leaving Kristina to wonder if she should put up a silencing ward around the doors of the rooms she practiced her music in. She went to library to figure out if there were any charms that could soundproof a room.

###

Harry was walking around the school on the last day before the Christmas holidays. He had been aimlessly walking around, but had somehow ended up near Ravenclaw tower. He saw Kristina and Hermione coming out from the top of it, laughing and smiling at each other, as he walked by.

“Harry!” Kristina called, and he turned around to face her and Hermione. “How're you?”

“I'm good, you?”

“Pretty good,” she said, and Hermione came up next to her. “Mum and Dad wrote me a letter. They wanted to know if you were sure that you weren't coming home. I'm just making sure, because they told me to, and I'm going to have to spend two weeks with them. So you're not coming home, right?”

“No, I'm not,” said Harry.

_Why did she feel like she even had to ask? She knows that I'm not going back to them - at least not now!_

“That's what I thought, but I was just making sure. How's things with Draco?”

“Going pretty well, he hasn't said anything exceptionally rude about Muggleborns recently, so that's good. We've been collaborating in Potions, and that's gone pretty well - apparently I'm getting an Outstanding. I haven't been doing too well in Charms, or Herbology for that matter, though.”

“Professor Snape seems to hate me and Kristina,” said Hermione. “I'm barely getting an Acceptable, and I haven't made one mistake since October!”

“He told me privately that both of you were exceptional at the theory, but needed to work more on the practice. Don't tell him I told you,” Harry added quickly. “He said I wasn't supposed to tell anyone.”

“He probably just hates us because we're not Slytherins and we’re actually passable,” said Kristina.

“Probably so. How's Defense going?”

“Alright, but Quirrell's an idiot,” Hermione said.

“Point.” Harry looked at Kristina. “How are things in general in Ravenclaw?”

“A little bit of tension over me being the Boy-Who-Lived’s sister, but other than that, everything's fine,” said Kristina.

“That's good.” Harry looked around. “Well, I have to go now. Nice chatting with you two!”

“Same to you,” said Hermione, and Kristina added,

“Do you want to study together sometime?”

“Sure, but we can figure that out after Christmas, alright?”

“Sure.”

###

Draco was walking leisurely towards Snape’s office, wanting to have a chat with his godfather about a certain potion he’d found in their textbook. As he got there, he saw the door shut, as it always was. He knocked, and said,

“It’s Draco.” Snape responded,

“Come in.” Draco did, and shut the door behind him. “What is this about?”

“I found a potion, sir, in our textbook. It says that it has the power to let a person see their Birthright, with a capital ‘B’. What does that mean?” Snape looked up from his desk, showing nothing except pure interest in Draco’s words - though Draco was sure the man was thinking of a hundred other things simultaneously.

“Draco, a Birthright is something I am, as a teacher, not allowed to tell you. The board of governors made that regulation after October of 1846, in response to something that I am not allowed to tell you about.”

“Then why is it in my textbook?” Draco inquired, and Snape said,

“It is enchanted to appear only to those with a Birthright. That way, only those curious enough will figure it out. Now, get out of my office - I have papers to grade.”

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, and went out of the office. He stood there, after the door was shut, for a few moments, wondering why Snape couldn’t tell him what it meant. Then he realized what Snape was trying to tell him.

_He cannot tell me, but he told me the date of the incident, and if I find that, I’ll be able to trace it back to what a Birthright is. Thank you, Professor - now I’ll be able to find it out, and you won’t have to tell me._

_I should hurry, however - Harry and I leave for the Manor tomorrow, so I have only tonight. That will be enough, I suppose._ Draco began to run for the library, casting only a few glances around to make sure that he wasn’t going to run into anyone.

###

That night, Harry was going to his last lesson with Snape before the holidays, and he saw Draco coming out, running as if the devil had possessed him. He raised a hand to greet him, but Draco didn't see it, and kept running.

_I wonder what he's doing?_ Harry thought, and put it out of mind. _It doesn't matter unless it becomes something I have to worry about._ He knocked on Snape's door, and said,

“It's Harry, can I come in?”

“Yes, you may,” said Snape from inside. Harry opened the door, and went inside.

“Professor, do you know why Draco was running?”

“I have not the faintest idea. Now, onto your lesson. You will brew the first potion from your book that you received from the headmaster, the Angelic Shield. You _did_ read its entry, correct?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“Are there any ingredients that are required for the potion that could be a problem to acquire?”

“None for the potion, sir.”

“And for the ritual afterwards?”

“It says that a few white bird feathers are required, but those should be easy to get, if you don't already have them.”

“I see. I will prepare those for after Christmas break. Now, brew the potion, and ask if you have any questions.” Harry did so, chopping, slicing, and dicing the ingredients and sprinkling the finished product into the potion. As he added the last pinch of silver dust, he turned to Snape and asked,

“Who are we going to perform this ritual on?”

“Why, you, of course,” was the reply. “You need protection of some sort, being the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived. There will likely be Dark wizards and witches that attempt to kill you, and this might help protect against some of the attempts.”

“But why not Dylan, if that's the priority?”

“Do _you_ want to perform it on him?”

“Fair point,” Harry said. “So when are we going to do the ritual?”

“On this upcoming vernal equinox,” said Snape. “Did you not read the entry for this potion? It must be performed on an equinox, just as the sun is rising or setting.”

“I know, I was just wondering if we were performing it as soon as possible,” said Harry.

“We are. I have no desire for a potion to sit around doing nothing useful in my office, when it could have already been used for its intended purpose and user.”

“Ok.”

###

Draco was reading _Hogwarts, A History_ in his room, going back to 1846, and reading what was written about it. His eyes passed over a passage that began, _“October 1846: the Halloween of death.”_ He quickly began reading the whole passage, and it read,

_“October 1846 was a time of great strife in the Wizarding world, and one student at the time, Lia Black, was upset at then-headmaster Lieaso for not dealing appropriately with the Muggleborn students who had attacked her friend. Lia Black used her Birthright, that of the One Pure Knife, to kill the three Muggleborn students without being discovered, on October 28, 1846. The fact that she had killed them came to light after one of her friends told headmaster Lieaso, and the headmaster announced it at the Halloween feast. Lia Black’s fellow Ravenclaws turned on her, as they did not believe that murder was acceptable from one of their own.”_

_“However, before Lia Black was killed, Benedict Mason, a Slytherin, used his Privilege, that of the Silent Assassin, to kill all of her assailants. The headmaster attempted to stop them, and began dueling both of them at once. Just as it appeared that the headmaster would win, Benedict Mason killed several students, diverting his attention and fleeing with Lia Black.”_

_“Benedict Mason and Lia Black were killed on sight after they were found in the Forbidden Forest, and Birthrights and Privileges were classified as Dark magic after the Halloween of Death.”_

Draco read the passage again, to make sure he knew what it meant, and then thought,

_This raises more questions than it answers. What exactly are Birthrights and Privileges? Will Father be able to tell me, if Snape could not? I will ask tomorrow, once we arrive at Malfoy Manor, and find out then. The answer will not evade me for long; I_ will _find out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos (if you haven't already), comment, and subscribe!


	9. Chapter 6: Christmas

Chapter 6: Christmas

“Mum! Dad!” Dylan called across the field of Hogsmeade, waving his hand. “How are you?” His parents waited to talk until they reached him, and then his dad said,

“We're well. You?”

“I'm good too,” said Dylan, and his parents looked to Kristina.

“I'm doing fine,” she said simply.

“Where's Ron, Dylan? And Hermione?” Dylan's dad asked, and Dylan replied,

“Ron’s still packing some stuff up. I dunno where Hermione is, though.”

“She was talking to Flitwick and making sure she didn't have any outstanding assignments in Charms,” said Kristina. “I'm sure she doesn't, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to make sure.”

“I'm here! Sorry to keep you waiting!” Hermione called, and Dylan and the others turned to see her running towards them. As she got close, she looked at Dylan’s parents and said, “I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter.”

“Call me James, please,” said Dylan's father.

“And please call me Lily,” his mother said.

“James and Lily, then,” Hermione said, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

“Where's Ron, Dylan?” Kristina asked, and Dylan replied,

“I don't know, he should have been here by now.”

“I'm here,” Ron said, walking up behind them. “We ready to go?”

“Of course, just grab onto this portkey,” said Dylan's father. After everyone did, he said, “Everyone ready? _Portus_!”

###

“Hurry, Harry! Mother is waiting!” Draco said, and Harry picked up his trunk and said,

“Yes, yes, I'm ready.”

“Good! Now let's go!” Harry nodded and they walked in comfortable silence to the fields of Hogsmeade, and Harry thought he saw Dylan and Kristina being whisked away by a portkey, but he wasn't sure.

“Where's your mother, Draco?” Harry asked.

“I do not know, she should be here by now,” was the reply.

“So perhaps I didn't have to hurry up as much, did I?” Just then, Harry heard a crack, and turned to see a woman with blonde hair that he assumed was Draco’s mother.

“Ah, you must be Harry. Draco has written much about you. A pleasure to meet you. I am Narcissa Malfoy.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Malfoy,” replied Harry. “Thank you for allowing me to come into your home.”

“Oh, it is not a problem. We had hoped Draco would make a friend whom he had not met previously.” Narcissa took out a small silver ring, and said, “This is a portkey that will take you to the grounds of the Manor, Harry. Have you traveled by portkey before?”

“I have not.”

“All you must do is to simply hold on, and once I say the incantation, it will transport you to the destination. Some are discomfited by the travel, but most have no issues with it. Now, if you both would take hold of the ring.” Harry reached out to touch the ring, and grabbed onto it, as did Draco. “You both have a hold?” Harry and Draco nodded, and Narcissa said, “ _Portus_!”

###

When they arrived back home, Kristina was surprised to see that the Christmas decorations had already been set up. It had usually been done with the help of her and her brothers, but she supposed that since it was already close to Christmas that her parents had done it. Kristina walked through the front door, trying to get out of the cold, followed by the other children.

“Hermione, you'll be sharing a room with Kristina, and Ron, you'll share with Dylan, alright?” Kristina’s mother said, and both Hermione and Ron nodded. “Bring your things up to the rooms. Dylan and Kristina will show you where they are.” Kristina motioned for Hermione to follow her, and walked up the stairs to her room. She walked in, Hermione after her, and shut the door.

“You can sleep in the bed, so put your things at the foot of it,” said Kristina.

“Can I sleep on the floor?”

“Yeah, but why?”

“I don't want to make you sleep on the floor.”

“I don't want to make _you_ sleep on the floor,” Kristina said. “Is this going to end up as a situation where we both sleep on the floor, since neither of us wants to ‘force’ the other one to sleep on the floor?”

“Probably,” said Hermione, smiling. “So now that we're both sleeping on the floor, what are we going to do?”

“We could practice spells - this house has wards that stop the ministry from being able to sense underage magic. Or we could read. Or we could catch up on sleep. There's really a whole host of options.”

“I think we should practice spells, since we can teach each other things. That way we can be ready for our OWLs.”

“Already thinking that far ahead? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised,” Kristina said. “So, Flitwick taught me a spell that lets you make music. Want to learn it?”

“Of course!” Hermione said energetically.

“It's incantation is _Cantus_...”

###

Dylan was playing a game of Wizarding chess with Ron when there came a knock at the door.

“Mum wanted me to get you two for dinner,” Kristina said. “Come on out, please.”

“I guess we'll leave it like this, mate,” said Ron. “Can you guys handle being alone like this? Promise not to kill each other?”

“Of course,” the black king, Ron’s king, said. “We are more civilized than that.”

“I agree,” Dylan's king said. “We would never act without orders from our liege.”

“We’ll be back, then,” Dylan said, rising from his seat and going out, Ron following. As they sat down at the table, Dylan sat next to Kristina and Ron, Hermione next to Kristina and Dylan's mother, and Dylan's father next to Dylan's mother and Ron.

“I feel that since it is a time of holiness, we should say a prayer to the Light,” Dylan's dad said. “Hermione and Ron, just fold your hands together and repeat after me. ‘O great Light, bringer of life -”

“O great Light, bringer of life,” everyone echoed.

“Protect us from the Darkness of this time,” said Dylan's father.

“Protect us from the Darkness of this time,” everyone repeated.

“Let joy overtake pain, peace win out over war, love destroy hate, and good vanquish evil.”

“Let joy overtake pain, peace win out over war, love destroy hate, and good vanquish evil.”

“ _Fiat Lux_!”

“ _Fiat Lux_!” Dylan glanced over to Ron, noting the look of wonder on his face.

_He must not do this at his house. Interesting - do the Weasleys just hate everything that has to do with Pureblood rituals?_

“Now, let's eat!” Dylan's dad said, and the food began to be passed around, Dylan noticing that Ron took a bit of everything, and Hermione did as well.

_Do they not have this kind of food? Is that why they're not taking that much?_

_I wonder how Harry's doing at Hogwarts - I hope that bastard is bored out of his mind._

###

Harry walked in the door to Malfoy Manor, shivering from the cold. For some reason, it was colder here than at Hogwarts. Placing his boots on the rug Narcissa and Draco put their boots on, Harry shut the door.

“Do I need to lock it?” Harry asked, and Draco laughed.

“No, you do not - the wards protect it better than any lock could.”

“I see.”

“Put your trunk on this rug - the house elves will take it to your room.”

“Oh, alright.” Harry did, and then Draco said,

“Come in, there is so much to do!” Harry walked in and followed Draco up a spiral staircase, but stopped when he heard a voice. Turning around, he saw a man with long, flowing blond hair and pale skin, and a face that could have been a king’s.

“Ah, Draco,” it said, reminding Harry of the cold winds outside. “Is this the boy you have told me so much about?”

“Yes, father - this is Harry Potter,” said Draco. “Harry, this is my father.”

“I am Lucius Malfoy,” he said, adding, “I have heard much about you from my son. I am sure we will have a lovely time with you here.”

“Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I am sure we will as well.” Lucius gave Harry a nod, then went off in another direction.

“Harry, you should see our library - it is very big and has books Hogwarts would never have!”

“A-alright,” said Harry shakily, and followed Draco to an enormous room that was full of bookshelves, which in turn were stocked with an amazing number of books, rivaled only by Hogwarts’ library. “Merlin...”

“Is it not amazing? There is a book I want to show you, Harry - follow me!” Draco pulled Harry towards a shelf in the back of the room, and pulled out a book, titled _Dark Pureblood Rituals_. “Will you read this, to learn more about the Dark and our culture?”

“Um, Draco, does this have any human sacrificial rituals in it?”

“What? Of course not! Those are an entirely different set of rituals - one that the more sophisticated do not use. They are what gave Dark magic a bad name in the first place, but most Dark wizards do not even use them. Just read it, Harry, and learn about what the Dark is and is not, from what is not Light-Wizarding propaganda.”

“Alright, I will - but do I have to now?”

“You can read it after dinner, I suppose. What do you want to do now, then?”

“I think I would like to play a game of chess with you, if you're interested,” said Harry. “If you don't want to do that, then we could practice some spells, I guess.”

“I would rather practice spells than play a game of chess. Our chessboards here at the Manor argue far too much for proper playing.”

“I see. What spells do you want to practice?”

“Would you be willing to teach me the spell you used on the troll? The _Ungula_ spell?”

“The Claw of Darkness? Of course!” Then Harry thought a bit, and said, “But where? It can be destructive...”

“The Manor has an underground dueling room. I shall ask father if we might use it.”

“Ok,” said Harry. “What should I do with this book?”

“Put it in your room - or just call a house elf. Effie!” A house elf popped out of the air, and asked in a squeaky voice,

“What does young master Draco require?”

“I require that you take this book from Harry and put it in his room. One has been prepared, correct?”

“Yes, yes, of course, young master Draco! Effie will do so at once!” Harry handed Effie the book, and she disappeared.

“That's the first house elf I've ever seen,” Harry said. “I didn't know they'd look like that.”

“They do - entirely unremarkable, but useful in the extreme. Now, let us go ask father.”

###

Harry followed Draco into Lucius’ study, after Draco had knocked and received permission to come in.

“Father, may we use the underground dueling court to practice spells?” Draco asked, and Lucius replied,

“What spell need you practice that requires such levels of warding as the underground dueling court?”

“I asked Harry to teach me a spell that I cannot remember the name of. It was something about a claw... Harry, what was it?”

“The Claw of Darkness - _Ungula Tenebrarum_ ,” said Harry, and he saw Lucius’ eyes go wide with something that he could only describe as surprise. He recovered in an instant, and inquired,

“How do you know that spell, Harry?”

“I learned it from Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy.” Lucius’ eyes widened, and he asked,

“Is Professor Snape teaching it in class? To all the students?”

“No, I am the only one I know of taking private lessons with him.”

“You, a _Potter_ , are taking lessons from _Severus Snape_?” Harry nodded, and Lucius smiled. “Never did I think to see the day he would give one extra whit of care to a Potter. I suppose fate can be like that. However, I have another question, Mr. Harry Potter.”

“What is it?” Harry said.

“Do you have a Birthright?”

“I do not know what that is,” Harry said truthfully. “If you would care to enlighten me, I would be most grateful.”

“A Birthright is a magical inheritance, of sorts, passed down by parents to their children. It allows certain powers to be had, such as ways to assassinate without a trace, ways to make gold from lead, and so on. No one who does not have a Pureblood ancestor can have one, but even ones such as yourself, with only one Pureblood parent, can.”

“I suppose the answer is that I do not know,” Harry said. “Is there a way to tell?”

“One must perform a spell - it is not very complicated, and for one such as you who can cast the Claw of Darkness, it will take you very little time to master. It is called the Power Revealer, and it's incantation is _Virtutem Revelare_. It also discerns whether or not one has a Privilege, and what the Birthright or Privilege is. _Accio Power and Bloodlines_!” A book flew off the shelf and placed itself in front of Lucius. “The instructions are on page 12. Return this book to me once you have mastered the Power Revealer.” Lucius handed Harry the book. “You are free to go.”

“If I may, I have a question for you,” said Harry, and Lucius nodded for him to go on. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what, exactly?”

“Giving me assistance with Birthrights, letting me stay in your house, allowing me to read your books - all of that.”

“Mr. Harry Potter, I would be a fool to let one with so much potential as you slip away without first trying to ally with you. I know that Severus has always been a good judge of who is worthy of his time, and if he is teaching you, then I know he sees something in you of value.”

“I see, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you for your assistance.”

“You are very welcome,” said Lucius. Harry gave him a nod and walked to the door, then stopped.

“May we use the dueling court?”

“Of course.” Harry turned and walked out, Draco following.

###

Lucius Malfoy reclined in his chair, looking around his office. He knew that he could have intruded in the boy’s mind to see if Severus was indeed teaching him, but he felt confident that the boy was not lying. After all, not even Draco could lie as convincingly as the Potter boy had told the truth. Lucius knew that Severus was not one who wasted his own time, and for him to tutor the boy himself showed signs of ambition and greatness that Lucius could not see from simply meeting him superficially and interacting with him only a few times.

Lucius knew that teaching a Light-born boy in the ways of Dark magic, especially one so powerful as Harry Potter, would be a great service for his Lord, when he returned - which was why he’d allowed Draco to bring the boy into the library and have him lend a Potter books.

_This boy has already been able to cast the Claw of Darkness, at his age and level of training! That is almost certainly a sign of great things to come. We may even be able to convince him to join us, if we act wisely. We will at least be able to convince him to stay neutral in the fight against Dumbledore and the Light, whose stagnancy is suffocating all innovation. With the amount of regulation on “Dark” magic, few things are being invented, and the Muggles grow ever stronger - as do the Mudbloods._

_Perhaps this boy will be the one who convinces many of the Light that the Dark is not all about killing and torture - the one who tells them that the Dark is as good, if not greater, than the Light. We can only hope that his friendship with Draco and his Dark power only strengthens._

“Fifi!” Lucius called, and the requested house elf popped out of the air. “I require a glass of wine, the finest vintage we have. I am celebrating a small victory, which will be the first of many.”

“As you wish, Lord Malfoy,” said Fifi, and she disappeared again.

_My Lord will reward me greatly if I convert this Potter to the Dark - and his conversion might inspire the same from many, many others._

###

After practicing spells for a couple hours, Draco and Harry went back up the stairs to find the house elves preparing dinner and setting the table.

“Draco, when do you normally eat?”

“Around six o'clock - it is five thirty now, so I would be surprised if the house elves were not preparing dinner by now.”

“I see. What are we going to do while we wait for dinner?”

“We could go to the library and find books to read later. The house elves will get us when it is time to eat, so we do not have to worry about that.”

“Lead the way, then,” Harry said, and Draco did.

After picking out an extraordinary number of books for reading, Harry and Draco were called by a house elf to the table, and they left after Draco instructed that the house elf bring the books to their respective rooms. Arriving at the rectangular table, where Lucius sat at the head of, and Narcissa across from him, Draco motioned for Harry to sit down, and then sat down across from him after he did. Harry wondered why no one was eating, but wasn't stupid enough to start without some sort of signal that he was supposed to. Then Lucius started speaking.

“O great Dark, bringer of change,” he said, and Draco and Narcissa echoed him, with Harry catching on halfway through. “Arm us with the weapons to attack the stagnation of the Light.” Harry echoed this time all the way through, and Lucius continued with, “Let pain give us motivation to make this world better, let hatred show us what not to do, let sorrow prevent us from making the same mistakes twice, and let change overtake stagnation.” Harry felt an eerie resemblance of this chant to the chant he’d heard last year during Christmas, from his family’s mouths. He knew what was coming, and so echoed Lucius after he said, “ _Fiat Tenebris_!”

After the chant, Lucius began passing the food around, and the meal began. Harry talked with Draco about insignificant things, and enjoyed the delicious food, better than even Hogwarts’.

###

That night, Harry was in his room at Malfoy Manor, reading the book of Dark rituals and practices. He stopped on a passage that seemed to confirm his suspicions that he’d had about the Dark philosophy.

_“The primary goal of the Dark is to ensure that nothing stays stagnant; in effect, that change is always happening, and that nothing can stop the change. The Light’s primary objective is to ensure that things are stagnant - which squelches change and chaos. Numerous Light wizards have tried to characterize this conflict as either between ‘good’ and ‘evil’ (with the Light wizards being ‘good’) or as between order and chaos, with the Light wizards being orderly. Neither of these illustrates that the Dark’s goal is not to destroy, but to change. Many Light wizards perceive all change as destruction, which is why they are Light wizards. Dark wizards realize that change is necessary and that it is not always destructive.”_

_That's interesting - the Light and Dark sides view the conflict as about completely different things. Light sees it as a struggle between good and evil, while the Dark sees it as between change and stagnancy. I should probably go to sleep, but this is so interesting - I don't know if I can stop._

A few more minutes of reading convinced Harry to put down the book, and he stopped casting _Lumos_ on his wand and went to sleep.

###

Kristina woke up with Hermione next to her, who was almost certainly still soundly asleep. Kristina got up quietly so as not to wake her. As she looked at the clock, it read “6:47”, and she sighed, knowing that she would be unable to leave the room and go downstairs without waking anyone for at least another half-hour. Kristina silently hoped for Hermione to wake up soon, so that they could discuss spells and other things so that she wouldn't be bored.

Kristina decided that she would wait, and picked up a book titled _Living in the Light: Why the Dark is Wrong_ from the shelf. She began to read it, and stopped on the second passage of the third page, trying to find out what the words meant.

_“The Light represents the good and the order in the world, while the Dark represents the evil and chaos around us. That is why the Light is in power in most nations now, and almost all of the remaining nations have a combined Light and Dark government. The two nations with solely Dark governments as of this writing in 1983 are the USSR and France. Given that both are on the edge of collapse, it is obvious that the Light provides the best government for everyone, which is why most people in the world are Light-Declared.”_

_“The Dark, on the other hand, makes instability and crime run rampant. Wizarding France has a lesser crime rate than the USSR, but both are still higher than that of Great Britain. Given these facts, we conclude that the Dark is destructive and has no place in our modern society.”_

_Really? So that’s why Dark magic and Dark-Declarations are bad? I always thought it was because Dark magic is used to hurt people, and Light magic is used to help them. I guess it kind of is like that, just on a bigger scale._

“Kristina?” Hermione asked, and Kristina turned around to see Hermione, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

“About seven o’clock,” she said, and Hermione replied,

“Really? It feels like eight or nine. Anyway, what book are you reading?”

“ _Living in the Light: Why the Dark is Wrong_ ,” Kristina said. “It talks about why the Light is better than the Dark.”

“How objective is it?” Hermione asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Does it make claims about the Light or Dark that are opinions?”

“I think it does, yes,” Kristina said.

“Then it’s really just Light propoganda.”

“Don’t you like the Light, Hermione? Isn’t the Light what’s advocating for Muggleborns?”

“No, I do like the Light, but regardless of whether or not I like it, the book you have in your hands is propaganda, meaning it’s biased towards making you believe one opinion over another. Unless it presents only objective reasons why the Light is better than the Dark, it is just an opinion.”

“I see.”

“You and I shouldn’t let our beliefs get in the way of determining whether or not something is an opinion or a fact - we should build beliefs on facts, so we can have a stronger foundation for them and ways to come back to people who try to attack them.”

“Um, ok. So, you’re saying that we need to see what’s what regardless of whether we agree with the person saying it?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes,” Hermione said, and stood up. “I’m going to get dressed. Don’t look.”

“Ok, I won’t,” Kristina said. She turned around and shut the book, then put it back on the shelf.

###

Harry woke up in his bed, and lay there for a few minutes. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, even though it was fairly early, he thought, so he got dressed and did his morning hygiene. Harry then left his room to find Draco outside.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, and Draco said,

“I was bored, so I decided to wait here. Do you wish to go to the dueling court? We could wake up by practicing spells.”

“Sure, but what time is it?”

“It is around four thirty.”

“Why did we both wake up so early? What a coincidence!”

“No, it is not a coincidence - it is because the Winter Solstice is tonight. Dark wizards and witches become agitated and restless when the Winter Solstice is close, while Light wizards and witches feel more restrained and happy when the Summer Solstice nears.”

“But I didn’t think I was a Dark wizard!” Harry protested.

“You are, in all but name, Harry,” Draco said. “Simply think about it. You are a more chaotic person than either of your siblings - and certainly more so than your parents. You hide behind a layer of restraint, but I saw you when you fought the troll. You unleashed your most powerful magic on it, and I could see the fire in your eyes. You had the motive to change something, and you _did_. You are _chaotic_ , Harry - and that is what defines a Dark wizard or witch.”

“I guess I always thought I would be a Light wizard,” Harry said. “Does this mean I can’t Declare to the Light?”

“No, but why would you want to? The Dark is where all of your friends, including me, are.”

“It’s also where Voldemort was,” Harry said without thinking, and cringed after he did.

“True, but the Light is where Dumbledore and your parents are. Both sides have bad people that are in them. There is no clear-cut certainty that one side will have better people than the other. In fact, there is only one clear-cut certainty of where you should be: where you, and only you, want yourself to be.”

“Thanks Draco, but I’m not sure I’ll Declare for Dark. I’m only eleven, after all - there’s not much I know about the world.”

“You know more than most, Harry. Now, do you want to go to the dueling court?”

“Sure,” Harry replied. They walked down, and then Draco asked,

“Do you want to duel me?”

“How do you mean?”

“Exactly how I said - do you want to fight a duel against me?”

“I don’t think that’d be a good decision,” Harry said thoughtfully. “After all, neither of us know healing magic, we know very limited defensive magic, and we know some powerful Dark offensive spells. That seems like a recipe for disaster.”

“I see what you are thinking, and it makes sense, I suppose,” Draco said. “Do you know any other powerful spells than the Claw of Darkness and the Fire Wreath?”

“Yes, I do, but I’m not very good at them - we should look at a book if we want to learn more spells.”

“I see. Effie!” A house elf popped out of the air and asked in a squeaky voice,

“What does young master Draco require?”

“I require that you bring the book from my bedside table titled _Offensive Magic of the Dark_ , at once.”

“Of course, young master Draco!” Effie vanished, then reappeared a few seconds later with a book with the title Draco had requested. She handed it to Draco, and he took it. She popped out of the room again as Draco opened the book.

“Where was it... Ah, yes - the Sword of Midnight. Its incantation is _Nocte Gladio_.” Draco showed the page to Harry, which showed a picture of a black sword coming out of a wand. “It creates a sword that extrudes from one’s wand, enabling them to fight in melee combat effectively, rather than having to cast a spell for each strike.”

“Sounds useful - it looks like the wand movement is pretty simple, just a couple of strokes.”

“Yes, but the incantation is five syllables, which takes precious time in a melee combat. Although, one could simply cast it before combat began, and then not be required to cast more spells.”

“Indeed.” Harry and Draco tried to cast the Sword of Midnight, with a little success from both of them. After an hour and a half, Draco said,

“I need a break. Shall we go upstairs?”

###

Harry had read the book Lucius had given him, and had memorized the instructions on page 12 for the Power Revealer. Harry had prepared all the necessary materials, which were the quill, ink, and parchment so that the spell could write down what his Birthright was, if he had one. He breathed deeply, lifted his wand, and intoned,

“ _Virtutem Revelare_!” Harry felt the air in the room become noticeably colder, and felt chills as the quill dipped itself in the ink and began to write. Harry felt like a cold wind was blowing through his mind, and knew that it was likely the magic finding his Birthright - if he had one. As the wind finished blowing through his mind, Harry opened the eyes he didn’t realize he’d closed and read the parchment.

_“Age: 11 Years. Magic Power: Young Lord-Level. Birthright: None. Conquest Privilege: None.”_ Harry's heart fell as he read the entry under Birthright. _I guess I don't have one. Why was I expecting one? It's not like Mum and Dad have any special magic abilities, and even if they did, this book told me that most are passed onto the firstborn child. I'm the thirdborn child - why was I expecting something?_

_Because I wanted to be special,_ Harry knew. _I wanted to have something to show Dylan, Mum, and Dad, and say, “I'm special too! It's not just Dylan!”_

_I guess I'll just have to live in his shadow, for now at least. How could I ever hope to overcome the Boy-Who-Lived’s fame, when I'm only his sibling? There's nothing momentous enough for me to do that would even come close to what he did. Optimism hasn't served me well here, and I doubt it will anywhere else._

_I have Draco alone to talk to about this - maybe he'll have some advice. I'll ask him once we get back to Hogwarts, though - I don't want to infringe on his holidays._

_I should probably return this book to Mr. Malfoy._

###

That evening, Harry and the Malfoys were gathered outside, bundled up in coats and boots. The sun was setting, and Lucius was watching it intently. The four were arranged in a shape with three on the outside, equidistant from each other, forming a triangle, and Lucius in the middle, equidistant from everyone else. All were facing the setting sun, and as it sunk beneath the horizon, Lucius began to chant.

“As the sun sets, and the night begins, the longest night of the year, let us hear what we must hear, see what must be seen, and feel what must be felt.” Harry felt chills run down his spine, and now from the cold. “O great Dark, bringer of change, grant us your blessing for this coming year, that we may fight the stagnant Light and change ourselves and the world.” Harry wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but the air seemed heavier, and the little light left seemed to be lessened. “As the followers of the Light cry out for its help to save them in their time of trial, may we cry out for the power from you to change and overcome the world suffocated by the Light. _Fiat Tenebris, Tenebrarum Aeterna_!”

Harry heard the wind begin to howl, almost knocking him over, and knew that this had to be a result of the ritual they were performing. The cold intensified, making Harry feel like icy fingers were clawing at his face, and he saw nothing but darkness and Darkness.

Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, Harry felt more fulfilled, more aware, more _powerful_ , than he had ever felt before.

“Harry? Are you troubled?” Draco inquired. “You seem... distant.”

“Draco, leave him,” Narcissa said. “He may be Communing.”

“Is that not dangerous?” Draco asked. “Can that not kill one?”

“There is no choice, Draco - if the Dark wills it, it will be done.” This time it was Lucius, and all their voices felt distant to Harry, as if he were underwater, and they were above it.

_No, it's not - it's the other way around. I'm above the water, and can hear everything they can't._

“Do you not see the joys of being a Dark wizard, Harry?” A new voice, powerful and deep, asked. “Do you not see what can be yours if you dedicate yourself to the Dark?”

“Who are you?” Harry asked, wondering if this was a person or something else.

“I am Caller Of The Night Winds,” it said. “One of many messengers of the Dark.”

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Of what interest am I to you or the Dark?”

“You are one whom the Light has wronged,” said it. “You are one who has much power, much ability, that is dormant. You are one who is chaotic, more so than any of your family. You are who you are, and who you are is one who is ambitious and wants change. You know that stagnancy is going to suffocate the world, and therefore the Dark wants you.”

“If you are a servant of the Dark, then you must know that I am young yet, and know little of the world. I ask that you grant me more time to make a decision.”

“The Dark will allow you time to make your decision, but you must make it by your fourteenth birthday - be it for Dark, Light, or forever undeclared.”

“I will still be in school by then!” Harry protested, and it laughed.

“It is up to you whether or not that school will be the same as it is now - you have the power to change it. Do not worry about what others will think, for you will be as influential as you wish to be.”

“How do you mean?”

“You heard the words that were said. Now interpret them to your liking.” It sounded amused. “This messenger must go, for the dawn draws near. Do not worry, your body is intact - it has been done so by the will of the Dark. Fare thee well, Harry Potter.” The presence vanished, and Harry felt himself back in his own body, which he hadn't realized he'd left. He saw the light of the dawn, slight though it was, and breathed a sigh of relief.

_That was interesting - was that a Communion? I remember reading about that in the book Draco told me to read, but I thought you needed a specific ritual to do it. Maybe I'm just special. Yeah, right._ Dylan's _the special one - the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior, and all that._

_I'll have to tell Draco about it once I get back inside. Why am I not cold? I should be._

###

On Christmas Day, Kristina woke to the sound of heavy, fast footsteps down the stairs. She groaned and asked aloud,

“Why is it only _today_ that they get up early?”

“Probably because they're just excited about presents,” said Hermione, next to her. “And they’re _boys_ \- and they say _we’re_ excitable.”

“Yeah, right,” Kristina said, smiling. “Do you want to lay here for a while to annoy them and make them wait until a reasonable hour?”

“We could do that, but I think we should just get dressed and ready for presents - after all, your parents are probably up now too, and they probably won’t wait long before going down.”

“Let’s jump out at them and scare them if we can.”

“Sounds like a great idea - but we probably need to get dressed.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m doing that first - don’t look.”

Kristina did, and then turned around for Hermione to do the same. After both had done so, they went down the stairs, tiptoeing quietly so as not to make them creak. They saw Dylan and Ron sitting around the Christmas tree, facing away from the girls, talking to each other and laughing, apparently not noticing them.

The girls both snuck behind a wall silently, making every effort not to be seen or heard.. Kristina glanced at Hermione, who glanced back, and held up three fingers, then folded them down as she counted silently. Once she folded down the last finger, she and Hermione jumped out from behind the wall and landed on the ground with a loud thump. Dylan and Ron jumped up from their seats and turned around, visibly startled.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed, and Kristina broke down laughing at the expression on Dylan and Ron’s faces, and Hermione chuckled a bit as well.

“Your faces - so precious - wondrous - I can’t stop - laughing!” Kristina said, in between laughs. “You should - have seen them!”

“Shut up, Kristina,” Dylan said, but he was smiling as he said it. “What was even the point?”

“To get a reaction like this, I think,” Hermione laughed.

“Well, you got it,” Ron said, glowering.

“Come on Ron, it was all in good fun,” Dylan said, and Ron shrugged.

“I guess,” he said, still looking mildly annoyed.

“I guess since you're all here, we don't need to get you, huh?” said Kristina's father, coming down the stairs, and she turned to see him. “Lily and I heard a loud thump and so I came down to see what it was, and, lo and behold, it was you kids! We’ll open presents as soon as Lily gets down here, alright?”

Kristina and the others took seats around the tree, and sure enough, her mother came down not two minutes after.

“Alright, now let's see who got what!” said her father, and she smiled. It was just like every other Christmas, except that Harry wasn't there.

_But I'm sure he's happier at Hogwarts than he would be here._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment, leave kudos, subscribe, and recommend this to a friend, if you liked it!


	10. Chapter 7: Dueling Rivals

### Chapter 7: Dueling Rivals

Harry walked through the halls of Hogwarts a day before his siblings were supposed to be back. He had asked the Malfoys to take him and Draco back to Hogwarts so that he wouldn't be suspected of having left by his siblings.

Harry was going back to the dungeons to read more of the books he’d received from the Malfoys, as well as his own _The Sanctuary of the Mind_. Disappointed though he was from not having a Birthright, he wanted to compensate for it by learning and mastering as much magic as he could.

After Harry reached the Slytherin common room, he went to his room and saw that Draco was in there, wand out, with a quill, parchment, and ink in front of him on the floor, back turned to Harry.

“ _Virtutem Revelare_!” Draco said, and the quill rose up, dipped itself in the ink, and began writing on the parchment. Harry was too far away to read what it said, but knew that it had a likelier chance of showing a Birthright, since Draco was Pureblood. Draco picked the paper up after the quill returned to its resting place, and then pumped his fist in the air. Harry was surprised, since it seemed like such an un-Draco thing to do, but then he heard him say, “I have a Birthright! I have power!”

“Um, Draco?” Harry asked, and Draco whirled around, slowly lowering his fist.

“I am sorry, I did not see you there, Harry. Why are you here?”

“It’s my room too, you know,” Harry said. “Anyway, I did that same spell, but apparently, I don’t have a Birthright. What’s yours?”

“My Birthright is called _The Three Knives of Darkness_. I am not sure what it does, however, I am sure it is something fitting to me as a scion of Malfoy.”

“Of course.” Harry looked around. “Are you the only one here?”

“As far as I know - most of our roommates are returning either this evening or tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“It is a shame you do not have a Birthright,” Draco said. “Do you wish you had one?”

“Yeah, but I can’t have one, so I’ll just deal with it.”

“You have resigned yourself to not having one? I suppose there is no other choice. One must resign oneself to some things, and fight viciously against others.”

“Yeah.” Harry blinked his eyes, surprised to find wetness there. He wondered why, and then realized he was jealous of Draco for having a Birthright.

_Why am I_ jealous _? Nothing he did made this happen, and nothing I did made me_ not _have a Birthright. I guess jealousy isn't about whether or not someone caused something, it's about if I want something another has. And Draco certainly has something I want. I suppose it makes sense._

“Harry, is something wrong?”

“No, I'm just a little... I don't know, jealous?”

“Of me?” Draco asked, and Harry nodded. “Because I have a Birthright and you do not?” Harry nodded again.

“I was hoping to have one, if only to show Dylan that I could be special too. But I don't, and now I feel like he’ll _always_ be above me, always be more special than I am.”

“So, you feel as if the only way for you to be more special than your brother is to have a Birthright?”

“Yeah, because he's good at Charms and Defense and Transfiguration and everything but Potions, basically!”

“Get better.” Draco was staring intently at Harry.

“What?”

“Get better than him in all of those subjects - study hard, practice hard, and make certain that you learn magic that he does not. If you try to become the best, you will surpass him, one to whom all things have been given if he so much as asks. He is entitled, and believes, almost without a doubt, that he _will_ be the best, because he is the Boy-Who-Lived. _That_ is how you can be better than him.”

“But I’m already trying to learn so much! How will I have time to learn more?”

“Learn how to manage your time. You study quite a bit, yes, but what you could do is instead of studying for certain subjects, study the topics that interest you. My father taught me this, which is how I know this - he was adamant that I not waste any of my time.”

“Ok, so I should spend a lot of time on Occlumency, Potions, and Defense spells, instead of splitting it all between all the subjects?”

“Yes, because there is no possible way for you to be everything at once. Find a niche that suits you, and become the best at it.”

“What magic should I learn that Dylan doesn’t know?”

“You should learn magic that your brother will _never_ know - such as Dark spells and rituals. He would never touch those, so it is safe to say that you could learn those and surpass your brother. You could learn the Light spells too, but I would think you should focus on the Dark first, if you are truly driven to become better than him.”

“Ok, I’ll do that. Where should I start?”

“You received several books from my family, correct?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Some of them will have Dark spells and rituals in them, I believe. Study them and practice so that you get better.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“You are welcome.”

###

Draco was in his room a few days later, reading the letter his mother had sent about his Birthright. It seemed as though it was a combat-focused Birthright, and Draco wasn’t complaining.

_Since I have this, it might save my life if I master it. Two knives, each controlled by one hand each, and then one knife controlled solely with the power of my mind. If I was facing a powerful foe, I might be able to win by making them think I had only two, but in reality, I would stab them in the back once they were focused entirely on me._

_Of course, there is no guarantee it will ever do so, but I will endeavor to make it so that I know how to use it._ A knock sounded at the door.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice asked nervously. “Are you in here?”

“Yes, I am,” Draco said, uncertain as to what was making Harry uncomfortable. The door opened and Harry walked in, shaking slightly. He closed the door and said,

“I just found out that we’re going to be dueling in Defense tomorrow,” Harry said. “And it’s with Gryffindor.”

“From whom did you find this out from?” Draco asked calmly, setting aside his letter.

“Kristina said that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had it today, and that Quirrell said that Slytherin and Gryffindor would be having it tomorrow. I’m really nervous, because what if I get paired up with Dylan? What if he beats me into the ground?”

“If you win, you win. If you lose, you lose. With this little notice, there is very little you can do about it.”

“Yeah, but if I get beaten, then Dylan will have _more_ proof that he’s the best!”

“You should know that is not true, Harry. You are doing well in Defense. Perhaps not as much as you would like, but you are doing well. There is no guarantee your brother will be able to best you, and if he does, he will not do so easily.”

“If you really think so...”

“I do. Now, if you would assist me with my Charms homework? I cannot figure out how _Scourgify_ works, and I certainly do not have five uses of it.”

“Alright, so _Scourgify_ recognizes any foreign material and vanishes it...” Harry began explaining, and became engrossed in helping Draco.

###

“C-C-Class, today we w-w-will be d-d-dueling each other,” said Quirrell. “Members of d-d-different houses will d-duel, from a list which I have already p-p-prepared. The pairs a-a-are as f-follows...” Harry listened for his name, but it wasn't called until the end. “A-A-And finally, D-D-Dylan Potter and Harry P-Potter.” Harry's heart sank, and his anxiety rose as various pairs came and dueled each other, until it spiked when Ron and Draco went up on the dueling platform.

“B-Bow! And begin!” Harry could see the look of hatred in Ron’s eyes, and thought that there was probably a similar one in Draco's as both began throwing spells at the other and dodging the ones the other sent. It was terrifying to see the two, so evenly matched, fight - though Harry thought both were holding back: Draco his Dark Arts, and Ron the more violent curses he probably knew. 

“ _Impedimenta_!” Draco cried, and the spell hit Ron in the leg. The class gasped, most likely because of a combination of the facts that Ron has been immobilized and that the Impediment Jinx was not taught until third year.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Ron spat, and Draco dodged the hex narrowly. He was not, however, ready for Ron’s next attack. “ _Lumine Ignis_!” Orange-tinged light appeared shooting out of Ron’s wand, until Harry realized it was fire giving off an impressive amount of light, and it struck Draco, who screamed in pain and dropped his wand.

“The match is o-o-over! Could someone p-p-please take Mr. M-M-Malfoy to the infirmary?” Quirrell called out, and Ron smirked in triumph. Pansy Parkinson, who'd already dueled Parvati Patil, took Draco by the arm and hauled him out the door. He was no longer screaming, but simply cursing what Harry assumed were all the curse words he knew.

“Now, Mr. Potter and Mr. P-P-Potter, please!” Harry walked up onto the platform with a heavy heart, watching as Dylan smirked the same smirk Ron had been wearing.

“Ready to _lose_ , traitor?”

“Are you, almighty Boy-Who-Lived?” Harry inquired satirically. Dylan’s eyes narrowed, and they exchanged no further words before they bowed at Quirrell's instruction and began.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Harry cast.

“ _Protego_!” Dylan said, and Harry's spell bounced off something and he had to dodge it as it came back. “ _Impedimenta_!” The spell struck Harry, who found he couldn't move his feet. He tried to remember the wand movement Dylan had made for his shield, and copied it as Dylan cried, “ _Apis Caecus_!”

“ _Protego_!” Harry yelled, copying the wand movement as best he could. It worked to repel the spell, but it didn't hit Dylan. “ _Expelliarmus_!”

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Dylan dodged, but Harry couldn't, and his wand flew out of his hand and into Dylan's as the spell hit him.

_Shit,_ thought Harry. _I lost? How could I lose? I've been training with Snape since almost the beginning of the year! Has Dylan been training with someone too?_

“ _Finite Incantatem_!” Quirrell said, pointing his wand at Harry, and he found he could move again. “The w-w-winner is D-Dylan P-P-Potter!” The Gryffindor side of the room erupted into cheers, and Harry hung his head in shame as he walked back to his seat.

_I lost, I lost, I lost! I'm worthless if I can't beat Dylan after that much training!_ He sat down at his spot, next to Draco, who asked,

“When did you learn the Shield Charm? I do not remember being taught it in class.”

“I just copied what Dylan did, and it worked - I didn't know it beforehand.”

“ _What_?” Pansy exclaimed from behind them, and both turned around to see her holding a hand over her mouth.

“What?” Harry asked. Pansy removed her hand and whispered,

“You just _copied_ a spell that was used in battle, and it _worked_?”

“I wasn't sure if it was going to work, but it did,” said Harry, unsure of why they were so agitated. “Does it even matter? I still lost!”

“Yes, however, you managed to _copy_ a _spell_ \- in the heat of battle, no less!” Draco said. “No one I have ever heard of can do such a thing!”

“Are you _sure_ you didn't learn it beforehand?” Pansy said, eyes wide.

“No, why would I lie? I didn't think it would work, I got lucky, I guess -”

“It takes more than luck to copy a spell, Potter!” Pansy told Harry a little too loudly.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. M-Malfoy, Ms. P-Parkinson! What seems to be so interesting that y-you are not paying attention to my lesson?”

“We're sorry, Professor, but we were discussing how Harry managed to copy the Shield Charm in the middle of that last match,” Pansy said sweetly, and most of the Purebloods and Half-Bloods gasped. “We were confirming that he wasn't just joking.”

“Mr. Potter, are you c-c-certain that you did not have p-prior knowledge of the S-Shield Charm?” Harry nodded. “See me a-after class, then.” Harry's heart sank, as he realized that he might be in trouble for something he didn't even know was wrong.

###

“Mr. Potter, h-have a seat,” said Quirrell after class, sitting behind his desk. Harry did so, and Quirrell folded his hands together in front of him. “Have you e-ever successfully copied a spell in s-s-such a short period before?”

“No, Professor, I haven't,” said Harry, uncertain. “Am I in trouble?”

“What? No, of c-c-course not - why w-would I p-p-punish someone who has done a r-remarkable job of l-l-learning spells and has broken n-no rules? No, Mr. P-Potter, I simply want to ask if you w-wish to take p-private lessons w-w-with me.”

“Um, not really, Professor - I prefer to study on my own,” said Harry, thinking quickly about how he could avoid having lessons with Quirrell and not reveal his lessons with Snape.

“I s-see, Mr. P-Potter. Entirely a-acceptable. You m-may go.”

“Thanks for the offer, Professor,” said Harry, and left the room, finding Draco waiting outside. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked him.

I was waiting for you,” said Draco. “What did he want?”

“He was offering private lessons, and I said I didn't want them,” said Harry.

“Why not? Surely you would welcome the opportunity to learn more spells!”

“Yes, but I prefer studying on my own. I don't want a teacher like Quirrell to be monitoring what I spend my time on.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Mostly I do.”

###

That night, Dylan and Ron were celebrating with the rest of the first-year Gryffindors because of their victories over Harry and Malfoy, respectively.

“I’m so glad you guys beat them!” Dean Thomas was saying to Dylan. “Did you see the look on Malfoy’s face when Ron disarmed him?”

“Yeah, it was pretty great,” Dylan said. “But Harry’s was even better - you could almost _feel_ the shame coming off his face!”

“Yeah, you totally could,” Dean said, and clapped Dylan on the shoulder. “You did great, beating the slimy Slytherins like that. Good job.”

“Yeah, mate, you did great,” said Ron, coming up to Dylan.

“So did you - Malfoy’s face was priceless!” Dylan said, smiling wide. “I wish someone had gotten a picture of that.”

“Cameras aren't allowed in classrooms,” Parvati said, coming up to Dylan. “And why would you want it? To laugh at him?”

“Of course! He's a blood purist _bastard_ who thinks he's the best!” Ron exclaimed. “What, you trying to defend Malfoy?”

“No, I'm just saying that generally, laughing at people only spreads more violence and anger. If you're not careful, this could lead to another feud.”

“If _we're_ not careful? The Slytherins are the ones who started it then, and if another started, they would be the ones to start it now!” Dylan argued.

“Just be careful about making fun of Slytherin for this,” Parvati said, and walked away.

“What's her problem? Slytherin deserves everything they're getting,” said Ron, and Dylan and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, but she probably thinks that a feud is so bad that we need to avoid one no matter what,” Dylan said.

“If they're so fragile that a bit of teasing will make them feud, what's the point of walking on eggshells around them?” Dean put in.

“You have a point, so I think we should rub this in as much as we can. Who cares if they get sore?” Ron said, and both other boys nodded. “Then let's do it!”

###

Kristina was walking with Hermione and Padma when Harry came by and looked at them.

“Oh, hey, Kristina, Hermione. Who's this?”

“I'm Padma Patil,” she said. “You're Harry Potter, right? Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Harry turned to Kristina, looking somewhat downcast. “Has Dylan told you about how he beat me in a duel in Defense?”

“You dueled each other in Defense?” Kristina asked, and Harry nodded. “He won?” Another nod. “What spell did he win with?”

“He won because of _Impedimenta_ , but took my wand with _Expelliarmus_. He managed to dodge mine, but since I was stuck, I couldn’t do the same to his. Have you seen him since two days ago?”

“Yes, but he seemed excited about something he wouldn’t tell me about. I’ve got no clue what it is, so I was actually hoping that you would.”

“That’s not true, Kristina,” Hermione said. “We know it has something to do with the third-floor corridor.”

“Yes, but the fact that we don’t know anything _about_ said corridor means that we don’t know anything.”

“Just because we don’t know anything about the third-floor corridor itself doesn’t mean we don’t know _anything_ about it,” Hermione argued, and Kristina shrugged.

“I guess. If you and Draco figure anything out, I hope you’ll tell us.”

“I doubt we will, but whatever,” Harry said. “I expect that regardless of what else Dylan is doing, he’ll find a way to rub this in as much as possible.”

“Alright, see you later, then,” Kristina said. “We need to get to Herbology.”

“See you,” Harry said, waving as the three walked by. He then turned and went the way to Potions.

###

Dylan was laying in his bed, wondering if what he’d managed to find out about the third-floor corridor from Hagrid was going to be enough to figure out what was really behind it.

_It’s a trapdoor, being guarded by a three-headed dog that Hagrid calls “Fluffy”. But what’s beneath it? I don’t think any of the other teachers are going to tell us anything - they’re all too discrete to give away valuable information like Hagrid did. But, Hagrid did say something about Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore, so if we research that, we might be able to find something out._

_I hope that Parvati, Ron, and I can get a hold of the books that mention Nicholas Flamel, so that we know what might be down there. If we can’t... I might have to ask Parvati and Ron if they’re alright with Hermione and Kristina knowing what we’re after and what we know. Kristina is smart and Hermione’s even smarter - so if they get on it, there’s no doubt that they’ll be able to figure it out. Even if Kristina spends too much time with Harry sometimes._

_I wonder if these books would be in the Restricted Section, and if so, we’d probably have to learn Disillusionment Charms, since we’d be going at night. Unless we got a teacher to let us go there, which we wouldn’t, so that’s a moot point._

_So, I research it with Ron and Parvati, then if that doesn’t work, I ask Kristina and Hermione. And if that doesn’t work in the normal section, I teach them Disillusionment Charms so they can research in the Restricted Section._

_We’ll find out what’s being hidden, and see if it’s something Voldemort could use. Mum always said that he was still out there, and I think he is too. If it’s something he could use, we steal it and tell Dumbledore that it’s not secure enough, since we could get it._

_I like planning out things in advance - it makes me better prepared for the actual thing._

###

Kristina walked into the Ravenclaw common room with Hermione and Padma and saw an argument between two of the male upper-year Ravenclaws. They looked to be about fourth- or fifth-years, and Kristina managed to hear,

“I thought _I_ was the one you were dating, Will! Not that... _other_ boy!” said the one.

“Marcus and I are just friends!” the other - Will - countered. “I’m still dating you, Isaac!”

“Do ‘just friends’ hug like that? I don’t think so! And besides, he’s a Slytherin! Why would you even want to _hug_ him!”

“Some Slytherins are alright,” Will said. “Or do think that just because the Sorting Hat put them there that they’re all mean and evil?”

“Well...” Isaac said uncertainly.

“And I wasn’t hugging him ‘like that’! He was having a bad day, and he needed a hug!” Kristina had heard enough and walked to the first-year girls’ dorm, with both her friends in tow.

“Why do so many people think Slytherins are evil?” Kristina asked rhetorically. “It’s not like a house can determine someone’s complete character. Harry’s in there, after all - and Draco’s not that bad, anymore.”

“Well, it’s the house where most of the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who came out of,” Padma said cautiously. “Of course some people are going to have prejudices.”

“Yes, but you’d think that in _Ravenclaw_ , of all places, people would be skeptical enough to realize that their prejudices are illogical!” Kristina said. “And before you say I’m making the same mistake, Ravenclaws are _selected_ for their intelligence, so it’s not that much of a jump to think that they should be more reasonable than the other houses.”

“For all you know, they _are_ \- not everyone thinks Slytherin is a cesspit of evil snakes here,” Hermione pointed out. “Gryffindor might be like that. Maybe even Hufflepuff.”

“You have a point, I guess,” Kristina said. “Doesn’t change the fact that even _one_ person being like that is annoying.”

“Yeah. Anyway, we should probably study for that Charms exam,” Hermione said, and Padma groaned.

“Hermione, can’t we _not_? I mean, we’ve been studying for a while - can’t we take one night off?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t know that I was _making_ you study... I thought you just wanted to do it.”

“I mean, I did, but every night for a week is a little much!” Padma said.

“Alright, I guess we’re not studying. What do you want to do instead, Padma?” Hermione asked.

“Um, fancy a game of Exploding Snap?”

“Sure!” Kristina said, and Hermione nodded.

“That’d be fun.”

“Then let’s do it.”

###

Draco walked into the first double Defense class since his defeat by the Weasley. He heard a giggle from the Gryffindor side of the room, and glared at the source - a short girl. She stopped instantly, and Draco continued on his way to his seat, next to Harry.

“Oi! Malfoy!” called a voice that Draco recognized as the Weasley’s. He turned slowly to look at the source and the Weasley continued. “You still think you’re the best at everything?” Draco narrowed his eyes and replied,

“At least I do not think I am the best at everything simply because I won one heavily restricted duel.”

“At least he’s not a sore loser like you, Malfoy,” Potter said viciously, standing to the left of the Weasley. “He _knows_ what it’s like to lose, so he’s a good sport about it, _unlike you_.”

“If you wish to duel me again, I will bury you in the ground,” Draco said cooly, and turned back to Harry.

“You think you could beat me after I beat _you_ so easily?” the Weasley asked incredulously, and Draco whirled back to glare at him.

“I know spells that you will _never_ learn,” he hissed. “At least half of which could end you in an instant.”

“Ooh, scary,” Potter said, chuckling. “What about you, Harry? Do you think _you_ could beat _me_?” Harry just kept looking at the desk, and Potter laughed as Harry’s cheeks started blushing. “Of course he can’t! I’m superior to him - after all, how could he beat me if Voldemort couldn’t?”

“Can you beat a troll with only a few spells? Could you even face one without running in fear? Because that is what Harry did!” Draco said, and Potter stopped laughing, and looked at Harry.

“Him? Beat a troll? Pick a more believable lie next time, Malfoy,” Potter said, regaining his smirk. “He could never even _look_ at a troll without running away!”

“Harry killed the troll at Halloween, _Potter_!”

“Prove it, Malfoy,” Potter said, smirk growing a little thinner and narrowing his eyes. “Who’re the witnesses?”

“Your sister and I are the witnesses. You could also ask Professor Snape, though I doubt you will, since you are far too _afraid_ of him to ask such a question. Or really, to ask any question at all. How could you have destroyed the Dark Lord when you are afraid of a _teacher_?” Potter’s smirk vanished and he reached for his wand, but Draco drew his in a flash and pointed it at Potter. “Do you _truly_ wish to have an unrestricted duel _now_ , Potter?”

“You’re a bastard, Malfoy!” yelled Weasley, and drew his wand. “How can you _still_ think you’re superior, because of your money, even though I crushed you in a duel? I think we should have a rematch now, so I can show you where you belong - in the ground, six feet under!”

“Is not murder a crime punishable with a lifetime sentence in Azkaban?” Draco inquired lightly, and noticed that everyone on both sides of the classroom was watching the exchange between him and the two Gryffindors.

_Good, if they throw a spell at me, I will be avenged,_ he thought.

“Yes, something I’m sure you and _especially_ your father know _very_ well,” Potter said. Draco went white and his eyes widened, then narrowed again.

“My father was under the Imperius Curse, and he never would have killed anyone otherwise!” Draco shouted. “ _Expecto Percussor_!” Nothing came out of his wand except for a whiff of glowing blood red mist, but at that moment, Professor Quirrell walked in.

“W-Wands down!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter!” Draco noticed that Harry jumped when Quirrell said “Mr. Potter”, and almost smiled except for the fact that he was likely to be in trouble. “M-Mr. W-Weasley! All of you, l-l-lower your w-wands!” Draco reluctantly did so, watching the other two do so. “Go to the H-H-Headmaster’s office and t-tell him what you did! All three o-o-of you are d-dismissed!”

“Who will escort us?” Draco asked. “As you might be able to understand, I do not feel comfortable going to the Headmaster’s office with these two only.”

“How rich, coming from you - you’re the one who started it!” Weasley said.

“E-Enough! I will send a message to r-r-request Professor M-McGonagall to come here -”

“That will not be necessary,” McGonagall said, walking through the open door. “I will take them and discipline them appropriately. Have you deducted points from them?”

“I-I have not, I was g-g-going to allow the Headmaster to do so,” Quirrell stuttered.

“The Headmaster is not here, so I will take them to my office and deduct points once I have heard both sides of the story. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley. Come here at once.” Draco obeyed, knowing that further disobedience would result in an even worse outcome. So did the two Gryffindors, and McGonagall led them out of the room and to her office.

After all four had entered, the door shut, and McGonagall motioned for them all to have a seat. Draco took one, and so did the other two. She sat behind her desk.

“Now, let’s begin with Mr. Weasley’s side of the story,” McGonagall said calmly. “Also, if any of you so much as draw your wands, I will not hesitate to deduct points and assign detentions. Mr. Weasley, you may speak.”

“Malfoy was insulting me and Dylan, and began lying about how Harry had beat a troll at Halloween, and then he took out his wand and cast a weird spell. It sounded like ‘Expecto Percussion’ or something like that.” McGonagall went white, and turned to Draco.

“Is this true?”

“I was insulting Potter and Weasley here, yes, but they were the ones who began it by gloating about their victory in dueling over me and Harry,” Draco began. “I was telling them how Harry could beat a troll when they would only run from it, and then I tried to cast a Patronus.”

“Why would you cast a Patronus, Mr. Malfoy? You are aware that those only are effective against Dementors?”

“I thought it would be ironic to see the supposed ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ being attacked by a Patronus,” Draco said.

“Hand me your wand.” McGonagall was not asking. Draco did so, knowing that it was a deep pit he was in, and she chanted, “ _Prior Incantato_!” A wispy red mist came out of the wand, and McGonagall looked severely at Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, are you aware that you cast not the Patronus, but the Percussor spell?”

“What’s a Percussor spell?” Draco asked, playing innocent.

“A Percussor spell is the inverse of the Patronus - it requires negative emotions to power and it can do severe mental damage to those attack by it. Are you certain you did not attempt to cast that?”

“Of course not! I must have mispronounced something.”

“I see. Well, there remains the fact that you three have drawn your wands with intent to hurt, and therefore I am deducting 30 points from each of you for your behavior.”

“Wha - but, Professor! Malfoy started it -” Ron began, but McGonagall cut him off.

“It does not matter who started it, as all three of you behaved shamefully. All of you have detention with Argus Filch next Friday, and I will inform him of this. If this _ever_ happens again, I will be forced to consider expulsion. Am I understood?” Draco nodded, and saw the other two do so as well. “Good. I will escort you back to your class.” She stood up and flicked her wand at the door, and motioned for all of them to go through. Draco waited for the two Gryffindors to go out, and then followed them, with McGonagall behind him.

_I will have to find more subtle methods of revenge next time. I cannot risk an expulsion, unless my life is in danger._

###

Dylan was being led out by Filch to the Forbidden Forest along with Ron and Malfoy. It was dusk, and already beginning to get moderately cold. They had all been informed that they were going to help Hagrid with finding out what had been killing unicorns. Dylan had seen Malfoy go white at this, if that was even possible with his already pale skin, much to Dylan’s satisfaction.

As they reached Hagrid’s hut, Flich said,

“Alright, ‘ere’s the hut. You buggers should all be glad that the Headmaster banned corporal punishment, otherwise I’d give you little buggers a good whippin’.”

“Yes we are, because he’s a sadistic bastard,” Ron whispered to Dylan, and Dylan smiled. Fortunately, it was dark, and the light from the torches by Hagrid’s hut prevented Filch from seeing their faces. Then the hut door opened, and Hagrid stepped out.

“Filch, ‘re these it?”

“Yes, these’re it. Take good care of them, won’t you?” Filch cackled and walked away, leaving Dylan with chills down his back.

“‘Right, Dylan and Ron, yer goin’ to be goin’ with Fang. Send up red sparks if yah’re in trouble, and green if yah find somethin’. Malfoy, yer with me.” Dylan thought he saw Malfoy glower, but didn’t pay much attention to it. “‘Right, I’ll lead all yah to the edge o’ the forest, and ‘en we’ll go separate ways. We’ll meet back ‘ere in an hour.” Hagrid did so, leaving his dog with Dylan and Ron as they walked through the forest.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Dylan cast, and a point of light appeared on his wand. “We’ll need this to see, Ron.”

“You’re right, mate - but where are we supposed to go?”

“I guess just go through the forest,” Dylan said, shrugging. Ron nodded and they began trekking along.

About twenty minutes later, Ron let out a scream, and Dylan turned to see him looking at a corpse of a unicorn, with a figure standing over it, sucking something out of it. The figure turned quickly and looked at them, then ran away.

“Send up red and green sparks!” Ron yelled. “I’ll go after ‘em!” He began to run after the figure.

“Right!” Dylan shot up two sets of sparks into the air, and then followed Ron, sprinting as fast as he could. “Can you see?”

“Yeah, mate, I have _Lumos_ on,” Ron replied breathlessly. They came to a clearing where they saw the figure, and Dylan yelled,

“ _Impedimenta_!” and the spell flew toward the figure, but it struck the ground as it ran away. Both Ron and Dylan began to run again, following the figure until they heard a voice call,

“Dylan! Ron!” Dylan whirled around to see Hagrid and Malfoy, as well as Fang. “‘Re yah alright?” He whirled back to see if the figure was still there, but it wasn’t.

“We were about to get the person who was drinking the unicorn blood!” Dylan yelled. “We would’ve gotten them if you hadn’t interrupted us!”

“A person was drinkin’ _unicorn blood_?” Hagrid asked, and both Dylan and Ron nodded. “An’ why did yah go after ‘em? Only powerful Dark wizards would e’er drink unicorn blood - yah’ve got no chance agains’ a wizard like that! Yah coulda died!” Dylan and Ron looked at each other. The possibility had never occurred to Dylan, and it appeared it never had to Ron either. “Ne’er mind that, now. We’re goin’ back and tellin’ this to Professor Dumbledore.”

 


	11. Chapter 8: Meetings With Dumbledore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, but I have the next interlude and most of chapter 9 done, so look forward to that!

### Chapter 8: Meetings With Dumbledore

“Persimmon beans,” Hagrid said, and the gargoyles moved over to allow him, Draco, Potter, and Weasley through. Draco was following behind the rest of the group, as he didn't really see why he was even there, except that he had been relatively near the scene when Potter and Weasley had seen the unicorn carcass being drunk from.

_I suppose I am simply unlucky, and I was in detention at the wrong time,_ Draco thought. _Of course, I may learn some valuable information, if I have any good luck._

_Except that this entire night has been nothing but bad luck._

“Ah, Rubeus, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Malfoy. What brings you all here?” Dumbledore asked as they reached his desk.

“Professor, Ron an’ Dylan ‘ere say they saw someone drinkin’ from a unicorn corpse,” Hagrid said. “They chased ‘em, but ‘e got away ‘afore I could get there.”

“Have a seat, all of you,” Dumbledore said, waving his wand, making four chairs come out of the walls. Draco sat down the last, and Dumbledore turned to Weasley.

“What did you see, Mr. Weasley? I need you to tell me everything you remember about the figure Rubeus mentioned.”

“Well, I, uh, saw it, and they looked like they were relatively skinny, but I couldn’t see color because it was dark, professor,” Weasley said, and Draco scoffed internally.

“And you, Mr. Potter? What did you see?” Dumbledore asked, turning to Potter, who said,

“I saw pretty much the same thing, professor - it was really dark.”

“I see. And Mr. Malfoy? What did you see?”

“I was not there, professor,” Draco said. “I was with Hagrid when Potter and Weasley screamed. We ran over, and Hagrid called out to them as they were chasing the figure down. It got away, since both Potter and Weasley looked back.”

“I see. Rubeus, will you take these boys back to their rooms, and then come back and discuss this with me further?”

“O’ course, Professor. Come on, Potter, Weasley, Malfoy - I’m gonna take all of ya back to yer common rooms, and ya won’t tell no one ‘bout this, alright?”

“Of course,” Draco said smoothly. Potter shot him a look, but he ignored it as both him and Weasley said,

“Yes, Hagrid.” They all got up and left the Headmaster’s office, Draco lost in thoughts about what this could mean.

###

“Harry? Professor Dumbledore wants to see you,” said a Prefect, and Harry nodded in their direction, getting up off the couch in the common room and putting his things back into his room. He left the Slytherin common room and traveled up to outside the Headmaster’s office, where Dumbledore was waiting for him.

“Professor? Why have you called me up here?”

“I need to talk to you and your siblings,” Dumbledore said, seeming somewhat distracted, which was something Harry had never seen before. “It is very important that you refrain from antagonizing each other - this goes beyond any squabbles you may have been having.”

“Of course, professor,” said Harry, hoping that his brother would keep himself in check. He saw Dylan walking towards them, and detected a sneer on his face, but Harry paid it no mind.

_Like my Occlumency book said - be like the grass in an open field, or like the leaves on a tree, letting the wind blow through but not destroy me._

“What’s _Harry_ doing here, professor?” Dylan asked, coming up to about ten feet away from Harry.

“He will take part in the conversation that we will be having. The only one left is Ms. Potter - ah, here she comes.” Harry turned to look in the same direction as Dumbledore, and saw Kristina slowly walking towards them. Dumbledore turned to the gargoyles that guarded his office, and said to them, “ _Persimmon beans_.” They moved out of the way, allowing Dumbledore through, who motioned to the three siblings to come in. Dylan went first, followed by Kristina, and Harry was the last. The gargoyles shut after he passed through, and he walked up the stairs to the office.

Harry sat in a chair on the opposite side from Dylan, next to Kristina. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, hands folded and elbows resting on it.

“I have brought you three here to talk about something that concerns _all_ of you, being in the Potter family,” Dumbledore began, and Harry wondered what he meant.

_Did Mum and Dad get killed or something?_

“Dylan and Mr. Weasley saw a figure drinking blood last night, in the Forbidden Forest. Unicorn blood, to be exact.” Harry felt his eyes go wide, and Kristina gasped.

“Who would do such a thing?” Kristina asked incredulously.

“I fear that it may be a servant of Lord Voldemort, though I am not certain. Unicorn blood, if you three are unaware, grants immortality to one who drinks it, but the result is not true immortality. The one who drinks it will have a cursed life, a half-life. The only reason that someone would drink the blood of a unicorn would be if they were certain they would have a form of true immortality available to them.”

“Would the Philosopher’s Stone elixir be considered true immortality?” Kristina asked. Dumbledore nodded, and continued.

“What I am about to tell you three must not go beyond this room, unless it is in the most dire of circumstances. There is a Philosopher’s Stone in the school, hidden and guarded well. I fear Lord Voldemort knows this, and is planning on stealing it.” Harry gasped, along with Dylan and Kristina.

“But didn’t Dylan kill Voldemort? How would he survive the killing curse?” Harry asked, and Dumbledore sighed.

“I do not know, but I have felt the stirrings of Dark power since the beginning of this year, and they intensified around the winter solstice.” Harry tried not to let his surprise show, but he remembered that that was when the messenger of the Dark had visited him. “I believe that this is the work of none other than Lord Voldemort. He is almost certainly preparing for a resurrection if he still exists, which I believe he does.”

“So, we’re in danger? If he could get into the Forbidden Forest, couldn’t he get into the castle proper?” Dylan asked, and Dumbledore sighed.

“That is a possibility, but the wards around the castle itself are stronger than those around the Forest. Though it remains to be seen how the intruder got through those in the first place, I am confident the wards of Hogwarts will protect you and every student in it.”

“Of course, but what if Voldemort is possessing someone that’s inside the school?” Kristina asked, and Dumbledore whipped his head to look at her. “That’s what he’s doing, from what you’ve told me - he’s not in possession of his own body, but he obviously has another. How tall was the figure that you saw, Dylan?”

“Looked fully grown - not anyone under fourth year,” Dylan said. Harry’s mind was still racing with the implications of this revelation.

_If Dumbledore has the Philosopher’s Stone, what’s preventing_ him _from becoming immortal? Also, why isn’t it in Gringotts? Did he think he could keep a closer eye on it here? Where is he keeping it? The students go_ everywhere _in the castle -_ Then it struck Harry. _Everywhere but the third-floor corridor. That’s got to be it. And Dylan was looking for something about the third-floor corridor, and this is probably it. If he manages to put two and two together, then he’ll probably go get it, just for the glory and the challenge._

_I can’t let Dumbledore know that I know, otherwise he would make me swear an Unbreakable Vow or something to make sure that I didn’t tell anyone._

_So I’m on my own - or with Dylan, which isn’t happening -  if I want to get the Stone. But why would I want it? I don’t want to live forever. If I could prevent Voldemort from getting it, I would, but I’m not likely to be needed when_ Dumbledore _is around. He’s the only one Voldemort feared, right?_

“So, if it’s a student, they’ve been in the school for a while. Maybe a few of the Dark Slytherins went and summoned the spirit of Voldemort over winter break.” Dylan said this as if Slytherins were the only ones who would ever go Dark.

“Or maybe a few of the Dark Gryffindors did that. We’ll never know, until we find whoever Voldemort’s possessing,” Harry said nonchalantly. He saw Dylan’s glance and laughed inside his head, but listened to Dumbledore when he said,

“As much as I would like to discount this scenario, there is the possibility that the culprit is a professor,” Dumbledore said sadly. “I trust each and every one of our staff, but I am not infallible.”

“Of course. So, what do you want us to do with this information?” Kristina inquired.

“Be on the lookout for anything that seems strange or Dark - and then report it to a professor or me. Do _not_ spread rumors about teachers being Dark if you have no good proof - and if you do, come directly to me or one of the heads of house.” The three nodded, and Dumbledore smiled. “You all may go. Please, do not allow this to distract you too much from your schoolwork.”

Harry nodded, and saw his siblings do the same. He got up and left, going back down to the dungeons and trying to finish his essay for Transfiguration.

###

Severus Snape walked up the stairs of the Headmaster’s office, not revealing his surprise when he saw Minerva and Filius sitting in chairs facing the desk.

“Ah, lovely, a heads of house meeting,” he drawled. “Where is Pomona? I assume she was invited.”

“She was not,” Albus said. “This concerns the private lessons you three have been giving the Potter triplets.” Snape, again, didn’t let his surprise show, but inside wondered furiously why they would have done something for the other two Potter siblings. He had told Albus that he had been tutoring a student, as he knew Albus would figure it out sooner or later, but saw no signs of anything above average in the other two Potter children.

_Harry is the only one out of them that shows any signs of greatness - Potter is far too self-absorbed and Ms. Potter is too stuck in her books to have any ambition._

“What of them, Albus?” Filius said. “They are perfectly within the bounds of the rules of Hogwarts.”

“Indeed they are, I even told you about them and you did not raise a fuss,” Snape said, narrowing his eyes. “Or have you decided that having a Slytherin receive special training was too dangerous?”

“I am not here to take these lessons away. Much to the contrary, I am here to ask if there is anything I can do to support them. The Potter siblings will likely be targets of Lord Voldemort, when he comes back, and I would like them to be as prepared as possible to fight him.” Snape wondered how the Headmaster would react if he knew that Snape had been teaching him Dark spells - at least, spells that were classified as Dark.

“There are a few books on Defense that I would like that are hard to acquire,” Minerva said. “If you think you could get them, I shall give you a list of them.”

“Very well. Anything else for you, Minerva?”

“Nothing that I can think of now, no,” she said, and Albus turned to Filius.

“What do you need for Kristina, Filius?”

“I think that I have all I need for her instruction, Albus,” he said. “Though a small amount of money might be helpful in acquiring miscellaneous items.”

“I will certainly be able to provide that,” Albus said, nodding his head. He turned to Snape, and said,

“And you, Severus? What need you for Harry?”

“Money for potions ingredients would be useful, as my stores do not include the necessary components for some more advanced potions that I would like to teach Harry.” Snape wondered if Albus would demand oversight over what he was buying.

“I see. I can provide that as well. Do you have any questions for me?” Snape and Filius shook their heads, but Minerva asked,

“How will you get the money that all three of us require?”

“Minerva, I have access to more than enough wealth for things like this. Do not worry yourself about it.” Minerva narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything else.

“If that is all, you all may continue doing what you were doing before,” Albus said, and Snape nearly snorted. He walked out before either of the other two, thinking,

_I wonder if Albus knows I know exactly where he gets his money for this - out of the Order’s pockets. Not that I mind, but it seems an interesting use of money to train three children, albeit children of Order members._

_I suppose Albus believes that the Boy-Who-Lived is essential to defeating the Dark Lord. It is a shame he does not know the whole prophecy._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos, comment, subscribe, and bookmark please!


	12. Interlude 3: Letters of Concern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been a while, but things happened. But now I have an interlude, and a new chapter almost ready! Enjoy!

###  Interlude 3: Letters of Concern 

_ 4/13/1992 _

_ Dear Dylan, _

_ We heard from Professor Dumbledore that you chased down a Dark wizard drinking unicorn blood. You have no doubt been told how dangerous it is to do such things, but we will reiterate: you could have died, had the Dark wizard chosen to retaliate. You must  _ _ never _ _ do something like that again - you need to consider the consequences of your actions before you execute them.  _

_ On another note, Kristina has told us that you are attempting to anger the Slytherins by bragging about your victory against Harry and Malfoy. Cease this at once; if there is another feud, we would rather Gryffindor not be blamed for it.  _

_ Please,  _ _ please _ _ consider your safety when you make decision, Dylan. We want you to be safe. _

_ Love, _

_ Mum and Dad _

 

_ 4/13/1992 _

_ Dear Ronald, _

_ The only reason I’m not writing this in a Howler is because Professor Dumbledore said that the Dark wizard drinking unicorn blood has to remain secret - otherwise you would be hearing my voice in front of all your classmates because of the stupid,  _ _ stupid _ _ thing you’ve done. _

_ Chasing after a Dark wizard - and one who just drank unicorn blood, no less - shows a complete disregard for your own safety! I  _ _ never _ _ would have thought that you would do something so  _ _ stupid _ _! Is your friendship with the Boy-Who-Lived making you think like this?  _

_ You must,  _ _ must _ _ consider the potential consequences of your actions, Ronald. If you don’t, you might end up dead - or worse. I don’t mean to frighten you unnecessarily, but if this is what it takes to make sure you don’t take  _ _ stupid _ _ risks like you did, then I will do it gladly. _

_ Love, _

_ Mum _

 

_ 4/13/1992 _

_ Dear Father and Mother, _

_ I was serving a detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest when two Gryffindors - a Potter and a Weasley - screamed. They were close to us, with the beast of a dog Hagrid calls a pet, protecting them. Hagrid and I ran over to them, at which point we realized there was a dead unicorn sitting in its own blood where they had been.  _

_ They  _ _ chased _ _ a wizard that had been drinking unicorn blood. I cannot fathom why they would believe that to be a good idea, but then again, I cannot fathom a great deal of what Gryffindors do.  _

_ Do you know of any rituals that use unicorn blood in them? I do not know why anyone would want to kill a unicorn, even if they  _ _ are _ _ creatures of the Light. It leaves a curse upon the one who kills them, yes? Then why would anyone do such a thing? _

_ I digress. Please, know that I did not chase after the wizard who drank the unicorn blood - I am not that foolhardy.  _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Draco _

 

_ 4/14/1992 _

_ Dear Mum and Dad, _

_ I wish that you both - especially Dad - would stop telling me off for things that are no doubt just as stupid as the things you did when you were my age. My safety is nothing compared to the capture of a Dark wizard, and that’s why I chased after them. _

_ I will brag just as much as I want - the Slytherins have been insufferable since the day I arrived at Hogwarts. They deserve to feel inferior - I promise you that. If there is another feud, Gryffindor will not have struck the first blow.  _

_ Love, _

_ Dylan _

 

_ 4/14/1992 _

_ Dear Mum and Dad, _

_ I’m sorry for chasing after the Dark wizard. I didn’t think enough to realize that I might be in danger until after the fact. You’re right, Mum - I did disregard my own safety. But it wasn’t because of Dylan. Please don’t try to implicate him where he doesn’t deserve to be implicated.  _

_ Love, _

_ Ron _

 

_ 4/15/1992 _

_ Dear Draco, _

_ Your father and I have discussed your actions, and agree that there is nothing else that you could have done to make yourself safer. We are thankful that you are not foolhardy, and that you chose to stay out of danger. _

_ On to more serious subjects. Unicorn blood can grant a limited immortality by drinking it once every certain period. However, this immortality curses the drinker, and they will soon cease to feel anything, except a wish for death. Do  _ _ not _ _ , under  _ _ any _ _ circumstances, drink unicorn blood. If you find a bleeding unicorn, tell one of Hogwarts’ faculty immediately. Do not attempt to harvest any of its parts - you will find yourself cursed for the rest of your life if you do so improperly. _

_ Love, _

_ Mother _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this interlude! I'll probably have the next chapter up by tomorrow!


	13. Chapter 9: The Dark One Who Flees Death

###  Chapter 9: The Dark One Who Flees Death

Dylan walked up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, trying not to think about Dumbledore being gone that day. 

_ If he’s gone, then whoever wanted the Stone could be planning on getting it today! What then? It might take a while for people to notice he’s gone, but if he is, then people are  _ eventually _ going to find out. _

_ And when that happens, whoever wants the Stone will go and get it, without Dumbledore to stop them. I can’t let that happen;  I have to go get Ron and Kristina to help me go there once classes are over - the culprit probably won’t try before then, but afterwards, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter if I don’t do my homework or break some rules - there might not  _ be _ rules  _ or _ Hogwarts if I don’t do this.  _

_ I’m sorry, Mum, Dad, but this is a risk I have to take. I’m not going in completely unprepared, though - I’ll have Ron and Kristina with me, and they’ll be on the lookout for anything dangerous too.  _

_ Together there’s nothing we can’t do. _

###

Kristina was coming out of Defense when she saw Dylan and Ron standing outside, and Hermione almost bumped into her when she stopped.

“Kristina, why’d you stop?” Hermione asked, and then obviously saw Dylan and Ron. “Oh.”

“What do you two want?” Kristina asked the boys, and Dylan replied,

“We need to talk to you. Not here, though. Follow us.” The boys walked away, down a corridor, and into a classroom, with Kristina and Hermione following. They shut the door, and Dylan said, “We think whoever we saw in the Forbidden Forest is going to steal the Stone today. Or rather, really soon.”

“And why do you think that?” Hermione asked suspiciously. “What proof do you have?”

“Dumbledore’s gone today,” Ron said quietly. “He’s not going to be able to prevent someone from taking it if they’re really being possessed by You-Know-Who. I don’t want to take the chance that whoever is going to will.”

“Why don’t you just tell a teacher?” Hermione questioned.

“Why would we tell someone who won’t take us seriously, Hermione!” Dylan exclaimed. “There’s not a single teacher in this school that would believe that us  _ kids _ know anything about anything important. We need to do this, and soon - I’m thinking after dinner.”

“If I’m going, so will Harry and Draco,” Kristina said mildly. “I don’t want you to think that they won’t be useful -”

“Malfoy’s dad was a Death Eater!” Ron said, wide-eyed. “He could betray us, for all we know!”

“Ron, shut up,” Kristina said calmly. “Just because his dad was doesn't mean he is.”

“And the only way  _ I’m  _ going either is if both Malfoy and Harry come,” said Hermione. 

“Why would you care about a pair of  _ blood purists _ ?” Dylan asked incredulously. 

“Hard as it may be to believe, Dylan, some people can change - though not all, as you’ve shown,” Hermione said, smirking. 

“Let's not fight - we should make sure we know what we're doing and how we're doing it,” Kristina said. “How do we get past the three-headed dog?”

“Music, but none of us know how to play any -” Ron began, but Kristina cut him off.

“I can handle that. Don't worry about it. I'll go and get Draco and Harry - you three stay here. Hermione, if Dylan and Ron try to leave, stop them.” Kristina went towards the door, then stopped. “I hope you know that we're breaking a whole bunch of rules.”

“I don't care,” all three of the others said at once, and Kristina smiled as she left the room.

###

“Potter! Malfoy! Potter’s sister is outside, waiting for you two. She said it's important.” Harry looked up from his essay, and looked at Draco, who nodded, and they packed up their essays and put them back in their room, then left the common room to find Kristina casually leaning against a wall, examining her nails.

“Harry, Draco,” she said. “Come with me.”

“Why should we? We know nothing of what you want -” Draco was cut off by Harry nudging him and walking towards Kristina. 

“If this is about what I think it is, then it's more important than any misgivings you might have right now,” Harry whispered quietly. “Please, just believe me.” Draco nodded, and the three came to an abandoned classroom, where Kristina shut the door and then began to speak.

“Dumbledore's gone, and we think whoever drank the unicorn blood is going to try and steal the Philosopher’s Stone,” she said. “Draco, you might not have known this, but Dumbledore's keeping a Philosopher’s Stone in the castle, somewhere linked to the third floor corridor. We think someone's being possessed by Voldemort in the castle, either a student or professor, and we think that they're likely to steal it when Dumbledore isn't here.”

“I see.” Draco looked to Harry. “Can you corroborate this story?” Harry nodded. “Then I will believe you. I assume you want us to come with you to prevent the Dark Lord from acquiring the Stone?” Kristina nodded. “Who else is coming?”

“Hermione, Ron, and Dylan,” Kristina said, and continued quickly when she saw the expression on Draco’s face. “They're all ok with it, and I hope you'll be civil so that we can prevent Voldemort from getting the stone.” Draco nodded reluctantly. “This is more important than any disagreements you might have with them.”

“But can we trust them not to backstab us?” Harry asked, and Kristina looked surprised at the question. “After all, we’re the ‘slimy Slytherins’, so I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

“They won't - they know that this is a more important than house rivalries,” Kristina said, but she sounded somewhat unsure. 

“I suppose.” Harry looked at Draco. “I'm going. Are you?”

“If you are, I am,” Draco said fiercely. “I will  _ not _ allow you to go into danger without additional protection.” 

“Well then, it looks like we're ready,” said Harry. “Shall we go?”

###

Kristina met up with Dylan, Ron, and Hermione in the classroom she'd left them in. 

“Draco and Harry are here. They've agreed to not antagonize you, and I expect the same from you. This is more important than any house rivalries. This could mean Voldemort coming back. We good?” Dylan and Ron nodded, along with Hermione. “Then let's go.” They all went out of the room, and Kristina noticed the look on Ron’s face. It was one of somewhat repressed disgust. She sighed and thought,

_ I hope that everyone won't antagonize each other, like they said. Because if we fail, then Voldemort comes back. And then the war starts again. I never want to have to live through a war - I've heard the terrible stories about the one with Voldemort. If he comes back... I can't imagine that.  _

“Let's go to the third-floor corridor, then,” Kristina said, adding, “Does anyone know the Disillusionment Charm?” She saw five sets of heads nod, and then whistled. “Ok, then cast them and let's go.” Kristina cast it on herself, and saw the rest doing the same. They all blended into the background, and they moved silently up the stairs towards the corridor.

When they reached it, Kristina saw that it was locked, and was about to cast an  _ alohomora  _ spell when she heard three different voices intone,

“ _ Alohomora _ !” Three beams of blue light hit the door, and it opened. Kristina whistled, and then whispered,

“The three-headed dog is ahead, guys - I'll take care of it. Someone needs to make sure everyone is there before we shut the door. Hermione, lock the door once you've made sure that everyone is in there.” Kristina walked through the door, and as the dog began to growl, murmured, “ _ Cantus _ .” Her favorite tune, the one she called  _ Freeing Innocence _ , played, and the dog that had been growling began to shut its eyes, and began to slink back, moving away from the trapdoor. 

Kristina, as she was casting  _ Cantus _ , saw the trapdoor open, and realized that it was Draco that was opening the door, as his Disillusionment Charm wore off. Even in the low light, lit only by torches on the walls, she saw three more people go through - Harry, Ron, and Dylan. 

“I'm going through, Kristina. I locked the door. Come through right after me.” She knew it was Hermione, and walked up to the trapdoor. Kristina watched Hermione go through, and heard a scream that sounded as if she were falling a long way. 

_ Shit, is there a drop on the way down? That's not going to be good. For all I know, they could all be dead. I should cast a charm to levitate me down gently.  _ Mobilicorpus  _ works on others, but does it work for the person casting it? I should find out.  _

“ _ Mobilicorpus _ ,” Kristina whispered, and realized the song was ending.  _ I need to get down that trapdoor.  _ She moved herself with the spell down the trapdoor, into total darkness. “ _ Lumos _ .” Kristina felt the air moving past her, and the small light from her wand did little to let her see.

_ Is this a giant underground chamber? It feels like it - it's big and also cold and damp. Wait... Do I smell a plant? That I can, it might be bad - that's a Devil’s Snare! _ Kristina caught sight of four people trapped in the Snare’s grasp, and saw Harry on the ground, who looked as if he’d cut himself out of it.  _ Impressive, if that's the case. _

“ _ Incendio _ !” Kristina yelled, loud enough so that Harry could hear her, and had her wand pointed at the base of the Snare that had Hermione in it. It shrieked, somehow, and it released her, dropping her down to the ground. Kristina realized that the ground was full of undergrowth, just as her spell ended and she was dropped onto it. 

“ _ Incendio _ !” Hermione cried, and the Snare holding Dylan dropped him. Harry seemed to have a different approach, and he said,

“ _ Diffindo _ !” It chopped off the vine that held the Snare up, and Draco fell out. 

“ _ Incendio _ !” Kristina shouted, and the Snare with Ron in it dropped him as well. 

“At least it broke our fall,” Dylan said as he got up, dusting himself off. “Although I wouldn't have minded feather pillows instead of this.”

“We were lucky not to have all died,” Harry said quietly. “Devil’s Snare can kill in less than three minutes, and injure in two. If Kristina hadn't come down like she did, I would probably only have been able to save two people. Let's go - I see the door that way.” Harry helped Draco up, and Ron got up quickly and headed for the source of light Harry had pointed out. Kristina followed Harry and the others, hoping that a Devil’s Snare wouldn't pop up again before they got out. 

###

Dylan was furious that he had been saved by Hermione, the  _ bookworm _ of all people. And he was furious that he’d had to have been saved. 

_ But I'm alive to  _ be _ furious - and I wouldn't be if Harry and Draco weren't here,  _ a treacherous voice in him whispered. 

_ No, Harry only helped Draco - they didn't help  _ us  _ at all. That's why we need to show them that they need to help all of us, or they're gone.  _ Dylan walked through the door of a room, and then saw a flock of birds inside a gigantic room, all lit up with torches. 

_ Wait, those aren't birds - they're keys! And what's the chance that one's the key to the next room?  _ Dylan looked around at the keys, then at the door, and supposed that the biggest one might fit. Then he saw the three brooms, and his smile widened.  _ I'll catch the key, and show Harry and Draco who’s  _ really _ a contributor! _

“Ron, you're good at flying, aren't you? And how about you, Kristina?”

“I'm good enough,” Ron said. “You want us to fly and get the key? And which key is it?”

“I'm good too,” Kristina said simultaneously. 

“Yes, I do - we’ll do it as a group of three, and we'll get it much easier that way. And it's the biggest one.”

“And what are we supposed to do, then?” Draco asked. 

“Sit around and practice spells, or something. It won't take long.” Dylan went over to the brooms and grabbed one. “Kristina and Ron, let's do this.” Dylan kicked off into the air, and the other two did as well. Dylan shot straight towards the key, and it flew out of the way faster than his broom was. 

_ Shit, I can't just fly after it? How’re we gonna catch it, then?  _ Dylan watched as Ron and Kristina went after it, having as little success as he he had. 

“Let's try and go at it at the same time!” Kristina yelled, and Dylan cursed himself for not thinking of it before her.

“Sounds good! On the count of three! One! Two! Three!” Dylan sped off toward the key from the center, and watched as Kristina went from the top and Ron from the bottom. Once he got close, he kept going towards it, making sure it never left his eyes. 

The key was within reach, now, and he grabbed at it, once, twice, and on the third time, he caught it, just as he heard a smack of flesh into stone. Dylan whirled his head to look at the source, and saw Ron falling from his broom, which was in splinters. He bore down as fast as he could towards him, and got under Ron, catching him with one arm. Somehow he managed to hold him long enough for him to be let down on the ground, and Dylan let him down as soon as possible. 

“Did you get the key?” Ron asked in a pained voice. “I think my arm’s broken.”

“Yes, I got it, Ron - can you stay with us?”

“Yeah, I just can't use any spells,” he said. “It's my right arm.”

“Can you walk?”

“Of course, mate - it's just a broken arm.”

“Let me take a look at it,” Kristina ordered. “If it's really bad, then you need to get to Madam Pomfrey, as soon as possible.”

“How can I, when we're locked down here?”

“We have brooms, you idiot! Now let me look at it!” Ron reluctantly began to move his arm towards Kristina, but then screamed in pain. 

“Ron, I think you need to go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Dylan. “There's no way you can keep going like this.”

“Fine, mate, but I don't think I'll make it back myself,” Ron said, holding his arm. “And Dylan needs to stay here, because otherwise Gryffindor won't be represented.”

“I'll take him,” Hermione said. “Kristina needs to stay, though.”

“Fine,” she said. Ron looked towards the brooms, and asked,

“Can you get two?” Hermione nodded, and said,

“I'll get him to Madam Pomfrey and then I'll bring the brooms back -”

“No, there's no way you'll be able to get him to Madam Pomfrey without a teacher knowing,” Kristina said. “So we should use that to get help. If Voldemort gets back, we'll all be sunk, so the fact that Ron got a broken arm down here should give them enough reason for them to come. Knowing that we're all down here should tell them that there's a serious threat.”

“Alright.” Hermione got two brooms and helped Ron onto one, then they both flew out of the room, back the way they came.

“Alright.” Kristina exhaled a deep breath. “Shall we go?”

###

Harry nervously entered the room, with Draco behind him. What he saw, in the torchlight, was a life-size chessboard, with similarly sized Wizarding chess pieces on it. Harry was standing behind the black pieces, facing the faceless white pieces. Kristina and Dylan came up next to him and gasped. 

“Is the white king guarding the door to the other side?” Dylan asked. 

“Yes, it looks like the only way to get past is to defeat the white side in a game of chess,” said Kristina, looking at a plaque on the wall. “We all have to take the place of pieces if they're going to let us through.”

“Is anyone here good at chess?” Harry asked, and both Draco and Dylan nodded, then glared at each other. 

“I do not trust Dylan not to sacrifice me!” Draco said, and Dylan retorted,

“Come on, don't pretend it wouldn't be  _ you _ sacrificing  _ me _ !” Harry closed his eyes and hoped that the situation would resolve itself before it slowed them down too much. 

“ _ Alright _ ,  _ I'll _ do it. Draco and Dylan, you're both going to tell me what to do, and present your cases of why I should. And quickly, since Voldemort could already have the Stone.” Kristina looked mildly annoyed, and both Draco and Dylan nodded quickly. “So I'll be king, since I need to tell the pieces what to do. No one take queen, since I might have to sacrifice it. On second thought, Harry, you're queen - sacrificing the queen is not something I'll probably have to do.”

“I'll take rook,” Dylan said, at the same time as Draco said,

“I will take the rook’s place.” 

“Good for both of you. Draco, you're on the right, Dylan, the left.” Kristina stepped up to the black king and went into its square. It moved out, and Harry did the same to the queen. He watched Draco and Dylan do the same to their rooks. 

Harry just took orders from Kristina and tried not to think about what would happen if one of the actual people got captured. He only half-listened to the arguments Dylan and Draco were making, but was pretty sure both were trying to get the other captured. 

_ Or rather, from the way it looks, killed. _ Harry shuddered. It scared him more than anything else that one of his classmates would get killed, all because they didn’t like each other. As he watched, and took pieces, his brain was in a mode of panic, until he saw the white king throw down its crown. 

“I  _ told  _ you I wouldn't sacrifice you!” Dylan said, and Draco shrugged.

“Perhaps you did not have the opportunity to do so. However, I suggest we move on.” 

The white pieces moved away from the door. Dylan led the way into the room, pushing open the door, and then he screamed. Harry ran towards the door, but saw a troll, even larger than the one he had faced on Halloween, inside. 

“Oh,  _ shit _ ,” Draco cursed, and Harry ran towards the troll that was raising its club, and yelled,

“ _ Ungula Tenebrarum _ !” A claw of darkness shot out of Harry's wand, gripping the troll’s club arm. “Don't just stand there! Do something!”

“Harry, was that a Dark -” began Dylan but Harry cut him off.

“There's no time!” Harry focused on crushing the troll’s wrist, so much so that he almost didn't hear Draco whispering,

“O Birthright mine, give me your power!” Draco ran in front of Harry, starting to slash at the legs of the troll with knives made of pure Darkness. The troll turned its head, looking for him, until Kristina intoned,

“ _ Incendio _ !” while Dylan shouted,

“ _ Diffindo _ !” A small cut appeared on the throat of the troll, but only a small amount of blood came out. However, Kristina had aimed for its head, and the troll began to pat out the fire on its head with its free hand. Harry heard a sharp crack, and noticed that the troll’s arm hung limply at its side. He ended his spell and yelled,

“Use more powerful spells! Those won't do anything until Voldemort already has the Stone!” The troll stomped near where Harry was, and he just barely got out of the way. 

“ _ Splendor Ignis _ !” Dylan cried, and pure, swirling white fire came out of his wand, striking the troll and causing it to combust. The screams were inhuman, but it collapsed on the ground, dead. Harry noticed a door on the other side of the room, and ran towards it, hoping the others would follow. 

Once all four had gotten in, the way back turned to purple fire, and Harry saw the next door be blocked by black fire. His eyes scanned the room, and he saw a table in the middle of it, with nine vials on it, in varying shapes. There was a parchment on it, and Kristina walked over to it.

“‘Three hold the way forward, three the way back, and three will send the drinker to Death’s kingdom,’” she read. “‘Spare the purple liquid if you wish to proceed, spare the black if you wish to die, and spare the green if you wish to go back.” Kristina continued reading what Harry knew by now was a riddle, and then finished with, “‘The one who drinks must drink all for the effect to happen.’ So, since we only have three vials that let us go forward, who's going to leave and go back? There's a broomstick left in the key room.” No one said anything for a few second, and then Draco said,

“I suppose I should leave, since having the three Potter siblings save the Stone would be poetic, would you not agree?” 

“Draco, you don't have to -”

“But if we argue about this too long, Voldemort will acquire the Stone,” said Draco. “I will go, so that that does not happen. Which one should I drink?”

“The purple one. Any of them.” Kristina looked as though she were about to cry. Draco picked up a vial and downed it, then said,

“Well, I hope to see you all again. It would be a shame if you all died. Please, do not.” He walked back the way they came, and the three siblings looked at each other. 

“So, which one do we drink?” Dylan asked, and Kristina said,

“The black one.” All three grabbed such a vial, and Harry nodded.

“One the count of three. One... Two... Three.” He drank his, as did the other two. He felt a strange cool feeling run through his body, and he said urgently, “Let's go through and find out who's helping Voldemort. Quickly.” Harry ran towards the black flames, and got through, Dylan on his right and Kristina on his left. They walked up stone stairs, and then opened a door at the end of them. Inside were two dueling figures.

###

“ _ Avada Kedavra _ !” Quirrell shouted, in a stronger voice than Harry had heard before from the man. A green light came out of his wand towards the other man, a stranger with white hair and white, hooded robes, who dodged to the side and intoned,

“ _ Splendor Ignis _ !” White waves of fire came flowing from the white-robed man’s wand, and Quirrell snapped,

“ _ Haurio Ignis _ !” The flames seemed to vanish into nothing about three meters away from Quirrell, and the white-robed man said,

“Give it up, Voldemort - you can’t win against me!” while Quirrell was yelling,

“ _ Glacies Diaboli _ !” Shards of ice flew out in a spiral from his wand, and three struck the white-robed man before he could react, but he recovered quickly and spat,

“ _ Haurio Totalus _ !” The shards of ice vanished a few meters from the other man, and Harry noticed Dylan pointed his wand at Quirrell.

“Wait!” Harry hissed, and Dylan hissed back,

“Why? We can get Quirrell, since he’s obviously the bad one here - he used Devil-ice, Harry!”

“So?”

“That’s Dark magic - it’s so dangerous, even a single scratch can poison you within five minutes if you don’t get treated!  _ Stupefy _ !” The jet of red light flew towards Quirrell, but he said,

“ _ Protego _ !” lazily, and it bounced off, hitting Dylan in the chest and making him fall to the ground. “ _ Stupefy _ !” It shot towards Harry, until he realized it hit Kristina, and she fell as well. He ran behind a pillar, and heard a laugh from Quirrell.

“You never were good at knowing when you lost, Flamel -  _ Spiritus Mortem _ !” A line of darkness shot from Quirrell’s wand to the white-robed man, and he cried out as he turned to darkness, and then nothingness. Harry watched in horror as Quirrell moved towards he was, and pointed his wand out, whispering,

“ _ Ungula Tenebrarum _ !” Harry envisioned the claw going and crushing Quirrell’s windpipe, but he just heard a laugh and a,

“ _ Haurio Totalus _ !” Then more footsteps. “You know, Young Potter, that spell is usually only able to be learned by wizards twice your age, if at all. I commend you on your achievement. Unfortunately for you, I have the knowledge of 65 years of existence - whilst you only have eleven. I have gone far beyond what the Light would like anyone to know, and delved so deeply into the Dark that none can match me.”

“I would like to take an apprentice, but it would seem that none are both willing to take and worthy of my instruction. You would be worthy, but from the fact that you attempted to kill me, I will guess that the Light’s propaganda has already tainted you.”

“Professor, you can’t - you can’t be Quirrell!”

“You’re correct, I am not - I am the Dark Lord Voldemort, the revolutionary that attempted to recreate the wizarding world. I have taken Quirrell’s body, but soon I will not need it. With the Philosopher’s Stone, I will regain a full body and have no need for this meager pawn.”

“I won’t let you have it!” Harry yelled, and stepped out to cast a disarming charm, but Quirrell - no, Voldemort - nonchalantly said,

“ _ Petrificus Totalus _ ,” and Harry felt his arms snap to his sides, but he was still standing up. “Now, if you and I could have a little conversation about what your goals are. Do you really  _ want _ to be a servant to the Boy-Who-Lived, and a slave to Dumbledore?” Harry felt the spell release just his mouth and vocal cords, and replied,

“No, but I’ll walk beside them and destroy  _ you _ !” The spell tightened again, and Voldemort asked,

“Do you really think you’ll be able to walk beside the Boy-Who-Lived and Dumbledore? You may as well be a star shining during the day, for all that you’ll be noticed. You want  _ power _ , don’t you?”

_ Power? Why would I want power? Why would I need it?  _

“I don’t need power!” Harry said, and Voldemort frowned. It was a strange expression to see on Quirrell’s face.

“ _ Ostendo Animus _ ,” he said after a few seconds, and Harry felt a light touch in his mind, that he tried to shut out with his Occlumency, but failed. “Ah, so that’s why.  _ Finite Labe Incantatem _ !” 

The instant the beam of light from the spell touched him, Harry felt something come  _ out _ of his mind, and shatter into a million pieces. He felt his pulse begin to race, as well as thoughts in his head that wanted to hurt, maim, destroy, kill -

_ I will  _ hurt _ Voldemort - I’ll make him scream and writhe before I let him die! _

_ I will  _ cut _ Dylan into a million pieces, once for every time he’s slighted me, and only then will I kill him! _

_ I will  _ destroy  _ Dumbledore, for every lie he’s ever told me, and for every time he tried to make me go along with my parents’ wishes! _

_ And my parents... They’ll  _ bleed _ from every part of their body and won’t be able to die, not with the curses  _ I’ll _ use - I’ll make them like the Longbottoms, so they won’t even be able to speak or think once I’m through with them! And I’ll make Dylan look at them before they die, just so he can see how pitiful they are! _

“I think it’s good that you’re in a full-body bind right now,” Voldemort said pensively, from somewhere outside the torrent of thoughts.  _ Hurt!  _ “After all, I can tell that your anger is running out of control, but your ambition that Dumbledore sealed away will probably take over soon.”  _ Destroy! _ “Of course, that anger won’t go away, since it’s been locked away for so long.”  _ Rend!  _ “It probably has magic of its own by now, in fact. I wouldn’t be surprised if it knows spells you would never use, not unless you were entirely angry all the time.”  _ KILL! KILL! KILL! _ “I can teach you to control that, but Dumbledore would only seal it again, all the while knowing how destructive you could be.”

“He would never let you be free again.” The anger froze, trying to process the words that Voldemort had said, that Harry couldn’t bring himself to doubt. 

_ I want to be free. Free of anyone’s influence who I don’t want in my life, and to do that, I need power. Yes, I need  _ power _ \- I need it to be free! _

_ But this is  _ Voldemort _! He’ll just destroy everything that I love! He’s a  _ blood purist _ , for Merlin’s sake! _

_ I love freedom - Dumbledore would take that away from me, and Voldemort won’t. He  _ understands _ what I want, and even if he’s going to try to get me under his control, I can maneuver out of it.  _

“I will never be subordinate to you,” Harry said, locking his anger away and clearing his mind of everything he didn’t need for this interaction. “But I do want power, and I also want to stay at Hogwarts.”

_ I want to get back at Dylan and Dumbledore, and I can, with the knowledge and power Voldemort will give me! _

“I believe something can be arranged,” Voldemort said, smiling strangely. “You will stay at Hogwarts, but you will also study spells, rituals, and potions from the texts I send you. Do not worry about the method of delivery - you will get them, and they will be returned in the same fashion.”

“I see.” Harry felt his blood still pulsing with rage, but held it in check with the knowledge that he couldn’t destroy Voldemort, and that he had things he wanted.

“Now, I will give you an extremely quick Occlumency lesson, on how to control your newfound rage.”

“Alright, go ahead,” Harry said, and Voldemort smirked. 

“Imagine that your anger is a rock, sinking in a pool of water, and that it’s held there by it’s own weight. If you need to pull it back up again, imagine that the water is draining out, and that you can pick it up again.”

“Ok, I’ll try it,” Harry said, and closed his eyes, imagining his raging emotions as a rock and sinking it in a small pond, all the way to the bottom. 

“Be sure to get angry and use some of that rock sometimes, since otherwise it will acquire a mind of its own. But, do not simply use it all the time, since you will be noticed by Dumbledore. It is in your best interests that you hide the fact that his spell has been broken for as long as possible.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, feeling his pulse recede to a more manageable level. 

_ Why am I talking to Voldemort? Because Dumbledore is worse, and this way, I can perhaps change Voldemort’s policies towards Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. This way, I can be free! _

“Now, I will have to stun you, to make it look like you fell with the others. I will acquire the Philosopher’s Stone, and make myself a new body. I will see you again, Young Potter.”

_ I will be free, free of the influence of Dumbledore and his meddlings! I will be free of my parents and their expectations! I will be free of the shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived! Even after Dumbledore blocked parts of my mind, I will finally be  _ free _! _

“And I will see you, Voldemort, whenever it is next necessary.” Harry felt the spell binding him evaporate, and he made his eyes widen in false shock as the stunner hit him. 

_ I am on the road to freedom! And I  _ will _ get there! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're almost done with this book! All that's left is the epilogue! Fun fact: this is the longest cohesive thing I've ever written. Please comment, leave kudos, subscribe, and bookmark! Thank you so much for reading this, and bearing with me through this!


	14. Epilogue: All For the Greater Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the epilogue of the first book of Prince of Sacrifices - hope you enjoy! I don't know when the prologue to the next book will be up, but thank you all for coming this far with me. I really appreciate it.
> 
> Here we go!

###  Epilogue: All For the Greater Good

Dylan woke to a bright light in his eyes, and held them shut as he sat up. Rubbing the sleep from them, he opened them and saw the Hospital Wing. Immediately he remembered what had happened in the room where Quirrell had been, and looked around frantically for an adult to tell that Quirrell was Voldemort.

_ Is there anyone here? I need to talk to Dumbledore! _ Dylan leapt out of the bed, and then collapsed on the ground, legs quivering too much to stand.  _ Shit, I need to get to Dumbledore - _

“ _ Mr. _ Potter!” Madam Pomfrey said, and Dylan groaned because of her tone. “Just  _ what _ do you think you’re doing, out of bed like this? You’ve been through a lot of trauma, and are in  _ no  _ condition to be moving around -”

“I need to talk to Dumbledore!” Dylan interrupted, and pulled himself off the ground, barely able to stand, even with his hands on the bed. “If Voldemort has it -”

“You will not be going  _ anywhere _ ! You will stay in bed and get some rest!”

“No, I need to talk to Dumbledore -”

“And you may, after you get in your bed. It would be ill-advised to exert more of your energy than is needed to speak with me.” Dylan turned and looked at Dumbledore, and began to speak rapidly.

“Dumbledore, did Voldemort -”

“Poppy, if you would leave us after Mr. Potter gets in his bed?” Dumbledore said, cutting Dylan off. Madam Pomfrey nodded, and Dylan reluctantly got in his bed. As she left, Dumbledore waved his wand and murmured something, then said, “Dylan, I regret to inform you that Voldemort has the Stone.” Dylan’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes went wide. 

“It can’t be...” Dylan trailed off, and Dumbledore shook his head.

“It is. We must assume that Voldemort is coming back. I admire your efforts to stop him, but they were not enough. After Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley came back up, I was contacted at the Ministry, and left immediately. Unfortunately, I was not quick enough. When I arrived, both you and your two siblings were on the ground, stunned, and the Stone was gone.”

“Who was the man down there that Voldemort called Flamel?”

“A remnant of my friend, the original creator of the Philosopher’s Stone. He had been going through a depression after a mis-brewed batch of the Elixir of Life killed his wife, and that eventually led to him killing himself, but not before he set up a guardian over the Stone - a fragment of himself, if you will.”

“So, he’s the one who made it, and who was your friend?”

“Indeed. I mourned his loss, but now I mourn the loss of peace that may be the result of this. Voldemort will no doubt start another revolution, and bring about the deaths of many. That is what we must prevent - the chaos and destruction that Voldemort will unleash upon Wizarding Britain, and if we fail, the world.”

“What was the war with Voldemort - I should say the First War - like?” Dylan looked intently at Dumbledore, who sighed. 

_ I need to know this if I’m going to be the savior of the Wizarding World - I can’t be ignorant of the things that happened before. _

“It was hell on earth,” Dumbledore said gravely. “There was no way to know when Voldemort and his blood purist followers would attack one’s family, and many simply gave up living, out of fear of what would happen if Voldemort won.” Dylan felt a chill run down his back, but nodded.

“What else?”

“Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters tortured many Muggleborns, and there were also reports that Muggles had been as well. In fact, anyone who stood in the way of Voldemort’s revolution was killed or tortured, or both. By the end of the war, only my group, the Order of the Phoenix, was left effectively fighting. The Ministry’s Aurors had been all but wiped out near the beginning of the war, with coordinated strikes by a group of Voldemort’s elite Death Eaters. The rest went into hiding, and left only the Order of the Phoenix, the Unicorn Knights, and the Sun Wizards fighting against him.”

“What happened to the other two?”

“The Sun Wizards were from the United States, and left after they suffered too many casualties. The Unicorn Knights were a group of Light-Declared Purebloods that opposed Voldemort, but didn’t accept anyone else in them. They lost too many fighters, and therefore decided to withdraw as well. Only the Order had the resolve to keep fighting against what we knew would be the destruction of life as we knew it.”

“How could Voldemort come back, after I reflected a killing curse at him?” Dylan asked, and Dumbledore sighed.

“I do not entirely know, and the little I do, I cannot tell you just yet. I will tell you all when the time is right.” Dylan frowned, but nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with your brother and sister. They may have valuable information you do not.” Dumbledore got up, leaving Dylan to wonder what he could have done to have prevented Voldemort from getting the Stone.

_ I failed. I failed, and now the world will pay the price. _

_ I must make sure I never fail again. _

###

Kristina woke up, sat up, and looked around before she remembered what had happened before she was stunned. 

_ Did Voldemort get the Stone, or did Harry stall him long enough for Dumbledore to arrive? It’s possible that he did, if Dumbledore was right behind us, but what if he wasn’t? Does Voldemort have the Stone now? _ Kristina heard a curtain swish, and looked to see Dumbledore walk through and wave his wand absently. 

“Does Voldemort -” she began, but Dumbledore answered her question.

“Yes, unfortunately,” he said, and Kristina felt her heart sink. 

_ Does this mean that war will come again? Didn’t it end when we were babies? What would it be like if Voldemort started the war again? I don’t want to have to live through that! _

“So Harry didn’t manage to stall him long enough for you to get there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry was still standing when I went down, as I remember. Dylan shot a stunner at Quirrell - sorry, Voldemort - but he reflected it, and Dylan got hit by his own stunner. Then he shot one at me.”

“Interesting,” Dumbledore mused. “Regardless, Voldemort has the Stone, and I must make the announcement at the end-of-year feast, which is tomorrow.”

“How long was I out?”

“An unusually long time, though I’m not sure why your older brother was out the same length of time, if he was hit by his own stunner. Perhaps he is unusually strong. Yes, you were out for a couple weeks, waking up here and there, and missed your exams. However, the three of you went back under once you woke before I could arrive and talk to you. This is the first time I’ve been able to reach you three in time. Given that both you and your older brother are still awake, I believe that you are mostly recovered. But I am not a mediwizard, so I leave it up to Madam Pomfrey to determine that for now.”

“Professor, how bad will things be? Now that Voldemort’s returned, I mean.”

“As I told Mr. Potter, they will be like hell on earth.” Kristina wondered how bad they had to be for Dumbledore to think that they were hell, who had been through the war with Grindelwald. “Many didn’t have any hope, and so committed suicide. Others went into hiding, but few stayed and fought.”

“Fear is as much a weapon as a spell, Ms. Potter. With widespread fear, you can limit the numbers of your opponents and make them flee before you. No spell can match the power of fear, but the power of fear is only the power that each person gives it. Unfortunately, many give fear much power.”

“But don’t they have a point? I mean, if they’re going to be tortured and killed, isn’t it better to go into hiding?”

“What happens when everyone goes and hides, and succumbs to fear, Ms. Potter?” Kristina felt her face flush, and replied,

“The battle is lost before it starts.”

“Exactly. If no one stands up, the battle is lost.” Dumbledore looked grave. “If everyone stands up, the battle is won. It is rare, in fact, effectively impossible, for everyone to do the same thing, but the principle still stands. Those who fight sacrifice themselves for those who do not. Of course, there are those who cannot fight, but if all who can fight against a threat do, the threat is often destroyed.”

“So what happens now?”

“You must get some rest before your parents and godfather get here. They will likely be here in half an hour, so I would recommend resting. Of course, it is your decision. I will go talk to your younger brother now. Rest well.” Dumbledore got up and went through another curtain, and Kristina thought,

_ We failed, and now we’ll have to endure another war - because we weren’t strong enough. Could we have been strong enough? We’ll never know, but we can make sure we’re not too weak again. We need to study and practice spells, defensive as well as offensive. That’s why we lost - we didn’t know any defensive magic.  _

_ We’ve made our bed. Now we have to lay in it, and endure the war that’s on the horizon.  _

###

Harry was awake far before Dumbledore came in his section of the hospital wing, but he was still somewhat surprised that Dumbledore was there. He hadn’t heard him from the room he came from, but he saw him wave his wand and mutter something, and Harry wondered if he was casting a privacy ward. 

“Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better now that I’ve had some time to wake up, Professor, but does Voldemort have the Stone?” Dumbledore nodded, and Harry faked wide eyes, since he had assumed Voldemort would get it before Dumbledore got it. “That’s... terrible. Is he going to start another revolution?”

“I would assume so,” Dumbledore said, and continued. “It would fit with what he was doing before he fell. He will stop at nothing to promote his blood purist ideals and make a society based on them.” Harry thought,

_ I wonder how much of Voldemort’s deeds and ideals are true, and what’s just Light propaganda? There’s no accurate way to know - if I ask Dumbledore, he tells me that they’re all true, but if I ask Voldemort, then he’ll just say that the more objectionable ones aren’t true.  _

“How can I help stop him, Professor?” Harry asked, while thinking,

_ I must play the good brother of the Boy-Who-Lived for some time, but after I have to go out into the open, I will stop that and gain power, for my freedom.  _

“You can try and show solidarity with your brother, since some in your house may be tempted to join Voldemort. You can prevent some of that, though not all. You have more influence on the younger Slytherins than the older, but since news of yours and Mr. Malfoy’s excursion down beneath the third-floor corridor has spread, Severus tells me that many look up to both of you.”

_ Other Slytherins, looking up to me? I guess this wasn’t a half bad “excursion” - I got to meet Voldemort and get a reputation. Even if I was out... how long? _

“How long have I been out?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware that stunners lasted that long,” Harry said, and Dumbledore smiled.

“They don’t usually, but I believe that it was a combination of your young age and Voldemort’s strength that led you to be stunned for most of two weeks.”

“How am I still alive? Did I get water poured down my throat?”

“You woke a few times, briefly, and got small amounts of food and water. I was notified too late to come here those times, but your parents and godfather will be coming to see you soon, so I shall leave you to have time alone with them. I will see you at the end-of-year feast, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore got up and went out of the Hospital Wing, and not two minutes later, Harry saw a man he recognized as Peter Pettigrew, his godfather that he rarely saw, walk in.

“Harry.” The man seemed extremely calm, almost as if he’d just been meditating and somehow kept the calm from that.

“Uncle Peter?” Harry asked, hoping that he was right.

“Yes.” The man gave a warm smile, but still remained calm. “I heard you got yourself into a mess, but came out of it alive. I’m just here to say that I’m proud of you, godson, for taking a well thought-out risk, one that gave you a chance to stop Voldemort from coming back.” Harry raised his eyebrows - he hadn’t known that Uncle Peter had been told about the true reason behind Harry’s incapacitation. “Yes, I was told, by Dumbledore. I’m a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry, and your godfather - it makes sense that he told me.” Harry remembered that the Order of the Phoenix was Dumbledore’s force, and kept his expression in place while he thought in distaste,

_ Just how far does Dumbledore’s reach extend? My  _ godfather _ is in his militia group? Is he going to use Uncle Peter to keep an eye on me? _

“I haven’t seen you that much - I think the last time was when I was ten,” Harry said. “What do you do, that you come so rarely?”

“I work for an British investment firm, but they have a branch in America, and I’m mostly there when I’m not in Britain. I’m mostly there in general, in fact. I was trying to get some investors to come and invest in businesses post-war here. But, if Dumbledore announces that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will be coming back, which he should and will, then I doubt any of the investors I’ve been trying to get to invest here will do that. If a Light Lord announces that a Dark Lord is rising, or in this case, back, it starts a state of panic, and investments get liquified. That means they get sold,” Uncle Peter said, looking at Harry’s face, which was probably pretty confused, and waved a hand leisurely. 

“Never mind. I’m proud of you. You did a good job, and tried your hardest to stop the a war from starting again. Even if you didn’t succeed, you learned valuable lessons about your own power and limitations. When you help Dylan face You-Know-Who, you’ll be more prepared and motivated because of this. You did well.” Harry nodded, making himself look disappointed, and Uncle Peter said,

“I’ve heard, though, that your parents tried to get you to get re-sorted into Gryffindor, and that you still haven’t mended your relations with them after that. Do you want to come to America with me for the summer, once you’ve gotten to a place with your parents where you can talk civilly? I still need to ask them if that would be alright, but I think it would be better than just spending your summer with your siblings and your siblings’ friends. But that’s just my opinion -”

“I’d love to!” Harry said genuinely, smiling. “I think that sounds better than staying at my house.”

“Alright, then we can -” Uncle Peter was cut off once the curtains swished open and Harry’s parents came in. Harry’s mother was crying, and his father looked grim. 

“We were just talking to Kristina,” his father said, the emotions in his voice sounding tightly controlled, and Harry looked calmly at him. There was no use to playing dumb, and so Harry just had to weather the storm. 

“And? What did she say?” Harry asked with a blasé attitude. 

“She told us that you each had one member of your own houses come with you, for a total of six people going down the third-floor corridor. Yours was _Draco_ _Malfoy_ , she told us.” Harry’s dad said the name as he would speak of a murderer. Which, Harry realized, was likely how he viewed the Malfoys. “I would have thought that you would have seen sense by now, that that boy is a bad influence on you.”

“Funny, I was thinking that I hoped  _ you’d _ see sense by now,” Harry said casually. “My friends are my friends - you may be able to dictate who I bring to your house, but not who my friends are. That’s for  _ me _ , and only me, to decide.” Harry’s father had narrowed his eyes and had a clenched jaw, and Harry’s mother had even more tears streaming down her face.

“You don’t understand the terrible things his father has done,” she said, and Harry scoffed.

“No, I probably don’t, but last time I checked, we were talking about  _ Draco _ , not his father. You can’t see past the parent to the child, Mum, Dad - that’s  _ your _ problem and  _ your  _ perceptions, not reality.” Harry felt good, letting out all his anger with words.  _ At least I’m not casting spells. _

“Do you really think you should be friends with a blood purist?” Harry’s father said, a touch of anger in his voice. “Do you believe in blood purist ideals now, too?”

“You would never understand how you can try and change people with logical arguments, because you never seem to use them. I haven’t heard him say anything derogatory towards Muggleborns since early December. He’s changing, and it’s because of me. If I weren’t in Slytherin and his friend, he would still have the same ideals that he’d been raised with. I’m changing them. Shouldn’t you be _ glad _ that I’m changing the minds of people that you disagree strongly with?”

“Let’s go, James - we’re not going to get anywhere with him, not like this,” Harry’s mother said, having stopped crying and looked more angry more than anything else. “Peter, will you come with us? I want to talk to you.” 

“So you’re leaving, because you have been presented with arguments that make you uncomfortable because you  _ know _ I’m right. Good strategy - it lets you continue to be ignorant.” Harry let a touch of anger into his voice, and felt the rock in the pond fragment a little, but Harry left the pieces there. He didn’t want to touch that much anger; it would likely lead him to kill one or more people - painfully.

“Harry...” his dad said warningly, but his mother took him by the hand and led him out, Uncle Peter following without a glance back. 

_ Did I make Uncle Peter angry? Is he disappointed in me?  _ Harry wondered, then decided,  _ It doesn’t really matter - I need to keep Draco as a friend, since he is basically my only one, and my parents need to be alright with that. I can’t lie and say he’s not going to be my friend - Kristina might tell them what I’m doing with him, and Dylan certainly would. Also, getting this angry makes me seem normal. If I let out my other anger, it wouldn’t, and would probably alert Dumbledore that the block he put on my anger and ambition is gone.  _

_ I need to talk to Snape about that, don’t I? I hope I get out soon so that I can talk to him.  _

_ I need to pretend to be the person I was before, with my ambition and anger locked away, if I’m to be able to stay ambitious. Dumbledore would probably cast it again and obliviate me once he did. I wonder when he cast it in the first place? That’d be interesting to find out.  _

_ Ah, well. It’s not as important as other things. I will keep acting so that I can get power - and then my freedom from Dumbledore, my parents, and anyone else who wants to chain me! _

###

Severus Snape was disturbed. He had just had a conversation with Harry, and was wondering what he should do with the information that Harry had given him about what Dumbledore had done to him. 

_ On the one hand, I could ask Dumbledore to confirm it, to make sure it isn’t true, but if it is, he would likely obliviate me. I cannot allow him to think I am not loyal - I would end up in Azkaban, and the other Death Eaters there would shun me, likely.  _

_ I must keep this secret, then. And figure out something to do about it, if need be. He said his ambition and anger had been blocked, which means both have resurged into him after being locked away, if he truly did remove the block with a spell he found in a book. If that’s the case, why isn’t he attacking people indiscriminately? A child that age should have plenty of anger, both petty and otherwise, so what did he do with it? I need to examine his mind and see what he’s done.  _

_ If he’s just sealed it off again, it’s likely that it will come out when he least expects it. I hope he hasn’t found some Occlumency book and decided to use a technique there without permission. That is  _ dangerous _ , and I am responsible for him for now.  _ Snape slammed his fist on the table. 

_ How am I to examine it? The end-of-year feast is tonight, and it’s already three o’clock. I cannot call him back without arousing suspicion, both from him and others.  _

_ If he’s going home with his parents, then I suppose he doesn’t need to adequately protect his anger, if it’s just going to destroy his family. I suppose that would be bad for him as well.  _

_ It’s held this long, why wouldn’t it hold until September? Because he’s with his crapsack of a family, that’s why. That’s likely to produce anger, and I don’t know if he’ll be able to maintain whatever technique he’s using.  _

_ So I’ll find him. The risk of leaving him with just his new technique protecting him and his surroundings from his anger is greater than the suspicion that would result in me getting him now.  _

###

Harry was walking back to the common room after talking with Uncle Peter about whether or not he could still go with him. Uncle Peter had told him that he needed to find a way to remain calm when he had conversations with his parents, instead of letting his emotions cloud his actions. 

_ I know he has a point, but it feels too  _ good _ to let out my anger at them! They are  _ wrong _ about so much! _

_ But if I want to go with Uncle Peter, then I need to do it. Maybe I should just try the thing Voldemort taught me - isn’t  _ that _ a strange thought? - with my normal emotions, except the ones I need to show me forward.  _ Harry heard footsteps behind him, and assumed it was a Slytherin upperclassman, but he heard Snape’s voice say,

“Harry.” He whirled around and asked,

“What do you want? Did I miss something when I talked with you?”

“Yes. Please come back to my office, as something came to me about a half-hour ago. However, I could not find you.”

“Alright, I’ll come.” Harry was puzzled - what had he missed when he talked with Snape? Did Snape know something he shouldn’t? 

_ What if he suspects something about me and Voldemort? What then? Snape’s sworn to Dumbledore, even if he was once a Death Eater - if he found out, he would  _ certainly _ tell Dumbledore. And that can’t happen, for the sake of my freedom.  _

_ I’ll just have to be extremely careful, then, and not let him into my mind. If he does, everything’s over. I’ll use everything I have to make him go out, if he tries something. I’ll obliviate him if I have to.  _

They reached Snape’s office, and Harry followed him in. The door shut by itself, and Snape flicked his wand, and Harry felt something change in the magic of the room.

“What did you do?”

“No one can hear us or spy on us any other way now. What I am about to talk to you about is of utmost importance that no one will know.”

“What do you need to know?” Harry asked cautiously, getting more and more certain that what Snape wanted to know was exactly what he needed to  _ not _ know.

“I need to know the spell you used to break the block on your anger and ambition, and how you knew it was Dumbledore, to start.”

“The spell was  _ Finite Labe Incantatem _ ,” Harry said. “I found it in a book I took from my parents’ library. It said it would break any barriers in the mind, and it did.”

“What made you want to try it?” Snape was looking intently at Harry, and he replied,

“I felt like I was missing something, I mean, I never got as angry as other kids, and I got a headache when I did.” Harry was telling the truth, which he had found out after trying to remember any time he had been angry. “That I had a block on my ambition was a surprise, but it’s good that it’s gone.”

“Does this mean that you will work harder in your classes?”

“Not necessarily, but probably,” Harry said, cracking a grin, though Snape’s face remained neutral. 

“Then tell me how you knew it was Dumbledore. I believe that he told me, once I learned of your incident of which you fainted from anger, that it was the Dark Lord that cast it, not Dumbledore.” Harry felt himself starting to panic, but kept calm and replied,

“It reminded me of Dumbledore’s magic when I broke it - it was like a blinding light. And it doesn’t make sense that the one time that Voldemort saw me, he would cast an emotion blocking spell before he killed me and my siblings.”

“I would agree that it does not seem like the Dark Lord’s style, but why would a Light Lord like Dumbledore cast it on you? Is your anger exceptionally dangerous?”

“I don’t know  _ why _ he did it - I just think that it makes the most sense that he did, since it was cast by an extremely powerful wizard.” Harry saw Snape’s eyes flash with something, and then asked,

“If Madam Pomfrey was unable to remove it, as she told me, why would you be able to?” Harry froze, and realized the hole in his story. 

“I - I’m pretty powerful,” Harry said weakly, but knew it wouldn’t be enough to convince Snape. 

“If you lied to me about this, Harry, what else have you lied about? Everything in this conversation? Why are you set on tarnishing Dumbledore’s reputation?”

“I’ll tell you the truth if you swear by Merlin and by magic that you won’t tell anyone by any means what I’m going to say for the next fifteen minutes without my permission.” Snape narrowed his eyes, and nodded.

“I swear by Merlin and by magic that I will not inform anyone of the information Harry James Potter is going to tell me by any means in the next fifteen minutes without his permission,” Snape said. “How were you able to remove the spell?”

“Voldemort removed it, when I was in the room with the Philosopher’s Stone.” Harry knew that he was taking a giant risk, but knew that it would be even riskier to alienate Snape and make him have eyes on him all the time. 

“Why would he do that?” Snape looked slightly confused, but that didn’t shatter his intense demeanor.

“He wants an apprentice. He thinks that I’d be a good candidate for it.”

“And are you planning on becoming his apprentice?”

“To some degree, yes. I want freedom, Snape - from Dumbledore, my parents, and the shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived. Unless I do something momentous, they’ll always be able to have power over me. If I negotiate with Voldemort as an equal, I can be free from their influences - and retain my freedom.”

“What makes you think the Dark Lord won’t enslave you?” 

“I told him I had no intention of becoming a Death Eater, and he seemed alright with that. In addition, if I gain knowledge and power, I can surpass him, or at least, be on equal footing with him.” 

“I served the Dark Lord, Harry - and I will require an oath of you that you will not tell or make any of the information I am about to tell you for the next ten minutes available to anyone else. Will you swear that by Merlin and magic?”

“I swear, by Merlin and by magic, that I will not make the information Severus Snape is about to tell me for the next ten minutes known to anyone other than the two of us,” Harry swore, and Snape nodded approvingly. 

“I am only pretending to serve Dumbledore, since the time the Dark Lord fell. I serve the Dark Lord, and will assist you in navigating through the politics of the Death Eaters and Purebloods so that you will be able to effectively become his apprentice. You will continue your lessons with me next year, but will not take any of my books home, since I do not want your parents to find them.” Harry’s jaw dropped, and he shut it rapidly and replied,

“I’ll be home for only a little while, but Uncle Peter will be taking me to the United States for the summer, since he knows that I can’t survive at home for the whole summer.” Snape’s eyes flashed at the words “Uncle Peter”, but Harry knew that was likely because of the “Marauders” that he’d been tormented by when he was in Hogwarts, Peter one of them. 

“Regardless, I will take the books I’ve lent to you back, as well as the Occlumency book that you stole from your parents. That would be difficult to explain.”

“I’ll get them to you, Professor.” Harry was reeling in wonder from the knowledge that Snape was actually still a Death Eater.

“So, Harry, are we allies?”

“As long as you’re not a blood purist.”

“I am not, but there are those in the Death Eaters who are. I will be certain to help you with that.”

“Then we are indeed allies, for the time being.” Harry pondered whether or not Voldemort was actually a blood purist, or whether he just declared himself one to get the Purebloods on his side. It seemed like something Harry would do if he was indifferent on the subject. 

“Are you suggesting that our goals might eventually differ?”

“Yes, but not for a while, if ever.” Snape nodded thoughtfully. 

“Bring me the books, and we will not speak of this to anyone, as we both swore. Thank you for trusting me, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Professor,” Harry said, getting up and leaving, and omitting the thought,

_ I don’t trust you completely, but I needed to trust you because there was no other way. If you break your vow, Snape, I’ll kill you. If you’ve lied to me, I will make sure you pay for that, and for restricting my freedom.  _

###

The end of the end-of-year feast was a tedious affair, Dylan observed. He would much rather be back in the Hospital Wing, talking to Dumbledore and learning the secrets that he would need to defeat Voldemort. Dylan half-listened to the announcements Dumbledore was making, with blue and bronze decorations on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. 

_ Ravenclaw won the House Cup, probably because Harry and Draco had to get upset about righteous judgement handed down to them for being blood purists. _

_ Harry’s not a blood purist, and you know it, _ a treacherous voice inside him whispered.  _ Maybe Draco isn’t anymore, either.  _

_ But both of them are Dark! _

_ They haven’t Declared, and neither have you, so you can’t judge. You’re as Dark as them. _

_ Shut up! _ The voice stopped, but Dylan imagined it in a smug silence as Dumbledore said,

“And, before I announce some disturbing news, I would like to award some final points to some exceptional students who fought for what they believe in.”

“First, to Ron Weasley, for knowing when to stop and realizing when one must allow others to continue one’s work, I award Gryffindor twenty-five points.” There was some tentative clapping, and Dumbledore continued. “Second, to Hermione Granger, for helping a fallen comrade for the sake of the goal, I award Ravenclaw twenty-five points.” Ravenclaw clapped the loudest, but Hufflepuff did as well, and even Dylan was clapping quietly. “Next, to Draco Malfoy, for being willing to work with someone that is distasteful to one in pursuit of a greater goal, and for being willing to sacrifice personal glory for the same, I award Slytherin twenty-five points.” Slytherin clapped, but not as loud as Ravenclaw had for Hermione, but few others did. 

“To Harry Potter, for being willing to take risks and make choices that would paralyze most, I award Slytherin forty-five points.” Slytherin clapped slightly louder, and Ravenclaw clapped as well, which surprised Dylan.  _ I didn’t know any of them liked  _ Harry _ of all people. _

“To Kristina Potter, for mediating conflict that would have inhibited success, I award Ravenclaw forty-five points.”

“And finally, to Dylan Potter, for seizing the initiative and leading a group of people toward a common goal, I award Gryffindor seventy-five points.” Dylan sat stunned.  _ Why do I get the same amount of points that Malfoy, Granger, and Ron got  _ combined _? _

“I have some bad news, however. The Dark Lord Voldemort has acquired the Philosopher’s Stone, and will likely be active in the world again.” Chaos rose in the Great Hall, with half the students stunned and the other half standing up and yelling. “Silence!” The hall went quiet as the students heard Dumbledore raise his voice for the first time.  “The Ministry of Magic has urged me not to make this announcement, but I could not in good conscience keep the populace of Great Britain - and of the world - ignorant of a threat to them. I ask that you all take precautions, such as not traveling alone, and not trusting people that you don’t know.”

“Report any suspicious activity to the Ministry, and learn defensive magic, if you are an upper year. Urge your parents to do the same. That is all.” Dylan wondered how people would take the announcement that Voldemort was going to start another war. He knew that more than a few wouldn’t believe it, even though Dumbledore had announced it. _ People are far too good at hiding from the painful truths of the world.  _

_ But even still, we must have as many people able to meet the threat of Voldemort as possible, or else he’ll win - and everything we love will be destroyed. _

###

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair, watching the students go into the carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts Express. He closed his eyes, hoping that things would not become worse than they had to. 

_ I will do everything I can do to prevent Tom’s rise again, but will I be able to stop it? I had to tell all the children that he was returning, but I hid my own failure from them. Of course, some will be able to figure that I was the one who allowed the Stone to be stolen, and I regret that, but Flamel’s shade should have been enough to defeat Tom in his weakened form.  _

_ I also cannot understand how I did not see that Quirrell was hosting a fragment of Tom’s soul - I should have been able to see that. It seems I must be more thorough in my background checks of my future employees.  _

_ But I must prepare for the events that  _ will _ transpire, instead of ruminating on ones that are already past. And for that, I must use the prophecy to inform my actions - which is why I must control Harry.  _

_ One day, he will understand why. Why the sacrifice of his free will is necessary to preserve the greater good.  _

_ It is for the greater good. That is why I fight against the Dark - because the greater good lies with the Light.  _

_ All my actions are for the greater good, no matter what they appear to be on the surface. If only my opponents could see that. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Prince of Sacrifices Book 1. I need to work on Book 2's plot and stuff, but I will start it! Hopefully I'll be able to get the prologue up within a couple/few weeks. 
> 
> Until then, thank you all so much for reading. I really appreciate all your support. You guys are the best!
> 
> (As always, comment, leave kudos, and bookmark, please!)


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